The Tale of Adelaide II
by lilBlueDragon
Summary: Yep, she's back. #2/3 is packed with Rohan goodness beer and men! , Gollum galore, hot 'n juicy love triangles, and double trouble for the girl who flips off wizards and sticks her tongue out at the future King of Gondor. Rohan, the party has arrived!
1. Smeagol, You've Been Owned

The Tale of Adelaide II

**HA-HA! Had to make a second one! Like the title says…this story is packed with Rohan stuff (for all you girls who have crushes on Theoden, Eomer, Wormtongue, Gamling, Hama, or any man who rides a horse…); Adelaide/Eowyn chick power (because girls in pairs are 2xTROUBLE!); more bad language than ever before (the uncensored version!); enough beer to float the Titanic; and love scenes so passionately graphic your computer will fry to a crisp. Reviews are ALWAYS welcome!**

**Also, I would like to apologize beforehand for anything that seems "impossible" or "out-of-place." The truth is, this is a fanfiction, where the impossible often becomes possible, so please bear with me…even though I try my hardest to play along with the history and chronological order of events, there ARE some things that are a little out of place. Just bear with it, and enjoy the story. **

**Otherwise…let the party begin.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anybody or anything except Adelaide.**

Chapter One

Smeagol, You've Been Owned

_There was Gandalf, standing on the bridge, the Balrog seething with rage, and ready to kill him. Terrible was the whip he held, though Gandalf had brought him down by sword. Now the great beast came on again, and lashed out, but the bridge beneath him crumbled and fell. The Balrog disappeared with a terrible roar, belching fire and puffing smoke. Like vomit, the black ash spewed around him and cursed up into the sky, sending shards and sparks of lightning to the very ceiling of the rocky cavern. His weight fell like an anchor, and they saw him no more. But his fiery whip came back up, curling and whipping like a tongue of fire. It lashed around the wizard's ankles, pulling him after. Gandalf crumbled over the edge, barely hanging on. "Fly you fools!" cried he, and he was gone. But down, down, he dropped, and through the great pit of Kazhad-dum he fell, without hurting himself. Like a spear of fire himself, he went after the great burning mass of fire and coal, and there was his sword, Glamdring, falling like an arrow with him. He clutched at it and sailed after his foe. Great curses he yelled, and his eyes were hard-set after his prey. The mighty breath stole around him, nearly choking him and clogging his lungs, but he continued to fall. Sweat rolled down his wrinkled face, and his brow furrowed. Glamdring shone white and whistled as if in challenge. _

_Down, down he went, further than mortal men could ever say or know. Finally he caught up to the demon balrog, slashing at his rock-hard chest with the terrible sword, sending showers of sparks in all direction, and yelling terribly. The hate of the fire roared, and the terrible ferocity of the wizard pushed both of them, locked together, towards the ending of the pit…to what End? Gandalf…Gandalf!_

"Gandalf!" Frodo said, suddenly, startling out of his dream, and coming back into reality. He was lying on his small bed of stones, with sparse grass around. He shivered, and reached for his blanket, and then reached out with his small hand. It met with cold air, and he drew it back to his body, shuddering with horror. Usually Adelaide was not so far away that he had to reach, but now she was gone. Frodo sat up, now unable to sleep, and let tears slip down his cheeks. Sam had woken up, and was startled to hear his master crying.

"Mr. Frodo?" he asked.

"Nothing, Sam. Just a dream," said Frodo quietly, and lay back down. "Only a dream."

The two hobbits were off on their way to accomplish their great goal of throwing the Ring into the fires of Mt. Doom, in order to save Middle Earth. In case you never read _The Fellowship of the Ring_, which was really dumb of you not to, you would have also read who Frodo and Sam were, who Adelaide was, and who all the other characters are. Anyway, now they were separated. Adelaide had gone with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli to hunt down the Uruks who had taken Merry and Pippin captive. Gandalf was gone (as you can tell by the dream), and Frodo and Sam were on their own. If any one of these characters are not familiar to you, read _The Fellowship of the Ring_.

Frodo and Sam hiked that day and into the afternoon. Surrounding them were great foundations of stone that could easily hurt and tear tender feet. But hobbits have rough soles on their feet, like shoes, and so what might have torn and shredded a man's foot, a hobbit could handle. Frodo and Sam barely minded these rocks. There was sparse grass about too, and not much life could be seen. Already the hobbits were descending into the land of Mordor, where shadows lie. And how terrible it was! Silence lay all around them, and Sam even tried talking to Frodo, and he to him, to get their spirits up and going. Now and then a nasty smell would be present. But Frodo's mind was set on his goal, and he would not shirk from it.

"Mordor," said Sam. "The one place in the world we don't want to see, and that's the place we're trying to get to."

Sam always put things so well, Frodo had to admit. Mordor was a place that no one really wanted to go see. Its black heart was a pit of seemingly endless days; pain, torture, and death were its ways. Fire rumbled beneath the surface, and terror filled every corner, desolate and without hope. The endless miles of black and gray rock stretched on for miles, and there between the hobbits and the land of shadow were orcs and other nasty thing, vomiting and spilling their terror everywhere they could possibly do it. It seemed to be an oblivion of dark murder.

"It seems such a long way off," he murmured. "I wonder how long it will take to get there."

"If I were as good with letters like you, Mr. Frodo, I'd keep a log," Sam pronounced. "Then we could keep track of the days."

"I wish we had a watch," Frodo lamented. "Then we could keep track of the time."

"Watch the sun, Mr. Frodo," Sam said helpfully. "You can see its tracings with the shadows. We might make a sun-dial. My old Gaffer taught me how to do that."

"Did he teach you how to hike a million miles to a volcano?" Frodo teased.

"Well, Mr. Frodo, he didn't rightly teach me how to do that, but I guess if we just sort of eyeball it, and head in that general direction, we might get there. Haven't you got no map?"

"I wish I did, but nobody wanted to map the way to Mordor," Frodo sighed. "A pity. A map would be of even more use than a watch or sun-dial."

They continued their journey, stopping every once in a while to view their surroundings. At last, they came to a knoll, or at least a sharp edge, and it was to a rock that Sam tied a tight knot with the Elven rope the Lady Galadriel had given him (you can read about her in the _Fellowship_). Frodo went down first, with Sam after him. Sam then hollered to Frodo if he could see the bottom.

"No," called Frodo. "Just don't look down, Sam!"

Sam started to grumble, and then lost his footing. Something very precious slipped from his pack, and he gasped.

"Catch it, Mr. Frodo!" he called, and Frodo put out his hand, catching a little wooden box. But that action caused him to slip also, and he lost his grip on the rope. Screaming, he fell, and Sam yelled after him.

"MR. FRODO!"

The scream was cut short with an "oof!" and then a, "I think I found the bottom!"

Sam hurried down as fast as he could. "It ain't natural!" he cried. "Not none of it!" What he meant, Frodo did not know. He was peeking in the little wooden box he'd caught for his friend. "What's in this?" he asked. Sam shifted his pack.

"Nothing important."

Frodo gave him a look, and Sam cringed slightly. "It's…it's just a bit of salt. You know, just in case we might be having roast chicken some night, or something."

"Roast Chicken?" Frodo laughed, and Sam blushed.

"You never know!"

"Sam! My dear Sam…"

"It's very special, that. It's the best salt in all the Shire."

"It is special, Sam," said Frodo, smiling. "It's a little bit of home." He was amused by his friend's sense of humor, and amused too, by the image that simple salt conjured up. It reminded him so much of his home at Bag End, and the warm nights by the fire, reading a book and sipping tea while Adelaide bustled about in her little apron and prepared a hot mushroom pie for him. Oh, on nights like those, anything magical could happen! Frodo smiled self-consciously.

"I wonder," he mused. "If Miss Rosie Cotton cooked with such as that."

Sam, who knew his master was teasing him, blushed again. "She did, sir, that she did. A fine cook, my Rosie! She knew how to make stuffed mushrooms with leek potato salad, and a fine job she did of bakin' bread, too! Why, my Rosie could spread such a table as would make your mouth water, Mr. Frodo!"

"So could Adelaide. She was always experimenting with new things. I remember, once, when she presented me with something she called 'hamburgers.' Took her forever to get them made, she said. She served them with fried potato chips, vegetables, and a good deal of salad. I must have eaten at least six of those delicious things…"

Sam smiled. "Do you miss her, Mr. Frodo?"

"Do you miss Rosie?"

Sam blushed. "Of course I do. It's just that…well, me 'n Rosie weren't dating like you and Adelaide."

Frodo chuckled. "But you love her, don't you, Sam?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then you must miss her…like I miss my Adelaide." He touched the picture of Adelaide that he kept in his back pocket. He had sewn it shut in there so that it could not fall out.

"I wish we had her here," he said. "She'd be pleased as punch to go to Mordor. She used to say that it was the one place she wanted a closer look at. I wish I could have let her come! But I couldn't. Not with her charms." He laughed. "I'd just as soon throw the Ring away, bolt for her, and take her home! No, I couldn't possibly bring her along."

"I'd rather Rosie stayed at home," Sam said firmly. "I wouldn't want her to see this." He looked up and gave a sudden cry. "Noodles! My beautiful rope!" He looked up in dismay, and Frodo sighed.

"We can't just leave it here for someone to follow us down," he said, and Sam grumbled.

"Who's going to follow us down here, Mr. Frodo? It's a shame really. Galadriel gave me that rope," he sighed, remembering the beautiful Elf Queen of Lothlorien. "Well, there's nothing for it. It's one of my knots. Won't come free in a hurry." He gave a parting tug on it with tears in his eyes. But to the hobbits' amazement, the rope undid itself and slithered down, landing in a pile between them. They looked at it, then at each other, and Frodo grinned at Sam.

"Real Elvish Rope? To think I trusted all my weight," he teased. Sam grinned.

"It came," he said. "And that's what counts."

They walked a little more during the day. Sam kept noticing that they continued to pass the same boulder that looked strangely like Elvis Presley's head (although he didn't know who the King was). At last, they stopped. Sam looked around.

"This place looks strangely familiar," he said. "We've passed that same boulder at least seven times, I think." Frodo looked sick.

"It's because we've been here before," he said, grumbling. "We're going in circles!" From far away, he could suddenly see the terrible mountain, and all the horrors of Mordor. "How on earth are we going to get there…so far away from here!" He squinted. Far away, he could sense the evil Eye prowling and looking about, and probing into his thoughts, with the terrible intent of getting the Ring back. Frodo gasped. The Ring was growing on him, and getting heavier. He had to sit down for a minute, and rest.

"Mr. Frodo?" said Sam, in concern. Then he nodded, understanding. "It's the Ring, isn't it?" he asked. Frodo nodded.

"It's getting heavier," he panted. Sam slung his pack to the ground, as Frodo took a flask of water and took a sip. "What food do we have left?"

"Well, let me see," said Sam. He grimaced, pulling out some lembas in leaf wrapping. "Oh, yes, lovely. Lembas bread. And look!" he pulled out some more. "_More_ lembas bread." He took a bite, and Frodo set to munching as well. Sam held up his piece.

"I don't usually hold with foreign food," he observed. "But this Elvish stuff…it's not bad!"

Frodo had to smile. "Nothing ever dampens your spirits, does it, Sam?"

Sam started to grin, and then looked over the way they had come.

"Those rain clouds might," he said gloomily. Frodo looked over. Yes, some terrible rain clouds were moving in, and they did not look at all prosperous for the trip. Frodo didn't like rain very much, and he hated it even more when he was out of doors. He sat huddled with Sam that night, wrapped in blankets, under the little protection that the stones could give, and shivered, thinking ever of Adelaide. And it was funny, but he could almost feel her body beside his, and her beautiful calm breath stirring his damp curls. He smiled, in spite of himself, and let his mind slip off into a dream.

"_Hot diggity-damn!"_

"_Adelaide, please don't swear."_

"_I'll swear all I bloody-fucking want. I'm pissed. Where the hell is my apron when I need it? And why are you grinning like that?"_

"_Have you worked on your thesis today?"_

"_Thesis be damned! I want to go out this evening, and I need my stupid apron. Have you seen my apron?"_

_He looked up at her in surprise. "Your apron? What do you want that for? You're not baking anything right now, are you?"_

"_I'm going to a little social thingy in town—some sort of sewing gathering, or like that…they invited me to come. They told me to wear my apron because we're getting messy. Though how you get messy from sewing is beyond me."_

_He chuckled. "Then obviously you don't need to wear an apron for that occasion, Addy darling!"_

"_I know I don't, but it's required, so just shut up and help me look for it, will you?"_

_The poor lass was in one of her feisty moods, and Frodo smiled helplessly at her. She had worked hard to clean the hole that day, but on top of that, she had cramps, a headache, and a million other nasty worries that could have been cleared with a single kiss. Instead, she was all pins and needles. But Frodo knew precisely how to find the soft red fruit beneath the spiny exterior. He waited until she was moving with her back to him, and he slunk up behind her, putting his arms around her and putting his face close to hers. His tomgue flicked out and tickled her ear._

"_Not now, Frodo!"_

"_Not now, what, darling?" His fingers came around and squeezed her bosom almost painfully. "What have I told you about getting feisty with me? I'll have you whipped, you naughty little girl."_

"_You touch me and I'll castrate you."_

"_Of course you would. Quite a trophy, eh? But no use without the rest of me." He bit at her throat, feeling his cock swell in arousal. Adelaide's breasts were full and hardened from his caresses, and the hobbit's fingers deftly unlaced her corset, shoving it to the ground and taking her into his hands more fully, until he felt her moan and arch into his embrace. He smiled wickedly and kissed her throat messily, harshly, until he'd left a great big welt. Adelaide's fingers came up, twisting in his curls. Her other hand grabbed Frodo's and plunged it beneath her skirt and underwear, to her moist petals hidden between her legs. The hobbit groaned as he plunged his finger deep inside her, listening to her little squeaking moans of ecstasy. He whispered huskily into her ear._

"_I think I know what you want," he whispered. "In fact, I KNOW what you want."_

"_ESP?"_

"_I'm just that good," he quoted her, shoving his finger deeper. Adelaide gasped and shivered._

"_Can I please—"_

"_No, you can't." He ignored her plea for mercy and promptly swept her into his arms, carrying her to the rug in front of the fireplace, and laying her down. He knelt between her legs and began unbuttoning his shirt._

"_Frodo, for Pete's sake, let me go to my meeting."_

_He gestured to his throbbing erection. "With the state I'm in? And that obvious red mark on your throat? Don't be ridiculous, lass. You're not going out. I don't want you going out tonight. There's no need. You're staying right here, with me."_

_His shirt came off rapidly, his skin glowing in the firelight. He shoved up Adelaide's skirt and practically tore her JCPenny's cheap underwear off. She closed her eyes and smiled in delicious abandonment as the hobbit played with her, sending her mind spinning madly, and then he stopped for a moment, unzipped himself, and brought himself out into the open air. He pressed the thick hotness of his shaft against her moist, pink flower, and felt her jerk in delightful agony. She smiled with her eyes closed. He could not refuse the plea on her lips. He could not ignore the wonderful beauty of those eyes closed, for if they had opened for even a second, he might have sat there contemplating such beauty for the rest of the night, and poor Adelaide would have been left hanging. _

_Her arms came up and drew him down. How did she know what to do? She could do anything so easily…she kissed him fully and lovingly on his lips, and he closed his eyes, shuddering in delight, throbbing madly against the inside of her thighs, and delving sweetly with his tongue. ._

"_I want you," he said huskily. "I want you so badly."_

"_I know. I know. Just love me, Frodo Baggins. Just love me." _

The next day, they walked further, but still came forward with the same results. Elvis Presley was beginning to look more and more real with each pass.

"It winked at me."

"What?"

"That stone face over there, Mr. Frodo."

"Oh Sam!" Frodo cried angrily. "We're still lost. We'll never get to Mordor at this rate! Precious time has already been wasted, and now you're hallucinating!"

"Pew!" said Sam, coming up and holding his nose. "I don't know about hallucinations, Mr. Frodo, but there's an awful stench in the air. I'll warrant there's a nasty bog nearby. Can you smell it?"

"Yes," said Frodo, calmly. He was expecting this. He knew that something dreadfully smelly was lurking about and following them. An old friend of theirs, you might have said. Adelaide had once expressed desire to see him. Bilbo had already seen him. And no one ever really wanted to touch him. "I can smell it," said Frodo. He turned to face Sam. "We're not alone."

That night, as the hobbits slept (or pretended to, at least), a strange and curious whispering could be heard from the top of the ledge. A nasty drop led downward, but the creature which climbed it was as agile as a rock acrobat, and he smelled of filthy things; of raw fish, slimy things, and stinking water. A filthier, more vile image could not have been conjured up for Gollum, once called Smeagol. And how he did whisper! He wore no clothes, save for a loincloth (thank the gods), and his very being was out of proportion, having large hands and feet, a small head, large ears, and bulging eyes with green glints of malice. His teeth were sharp (so what if he only had six), and his breath…well, you don't want to really know about his breath. Anyhow, he was thoroughly disgusting (although sources say that he was not quite as bad as Jabba the Hutt, who, by the way, was described in this very "thoroughly disgusting" manner by George Lucas. However, Gollum is thinner, thank God).

"Precious!" he was saying. "Where iss it? My precious? The thieves. The filthy little thieves! Where iss our precious? Where?"

He reached out one long, thin, bony arm, and his grasping fingers came close to Frodo's throat, about which the chain and the ring were hung. Suddenly both Frodo and Sam awoke (they had been faking) and grabbed Gollum by each of his arms. Gollum was definitely startled, but threw off both of his attackers. Then there was a fight!

Gollum saw the Ring and immediately attacked Frodo. Sam jumped on Gollum and pulled him back violently, but Gollum twisted and slammed Sam against a rock. He sprung at Frodo again, this time knocking Frodo down and straining in vain to reach at the Ring. Frodo cried out and grasped the long fingers, to try and keep Gollum from succeeding. Meanwhile, Sam got up dizzily, and attacked Gollum again. This time, Gollum wrapped himself around Sam and bit into his shoulder. Sam yelled in pain, while falling over backwards. But Gollum did not let go, and wrapped his whole body around the frightened hobbit, trying to bite his throat. Frodo came over, and unsheathed Sting. Vengeance was in his eyes as he grabbed Gollum's lank hair and drew his eyes upward, Sting pointed at his throat.

"This is Sting!" said Frodo in a commanding tone. "You've seen it before, haven't you…_Gollum_? Release him, or I'll cut your throat."

Gollum went as loose as wet string, and began to cry bitterly. He went on wailing. At last, Frodo beckoned to Sam, who was rubbing his shoulder angrily, and staring at the wretched creature. He had his Elven-rope, and was not about to let Gollum get away. They tied it to his neck, and from that moment on, dragged him about like a dog. It almost seemed inhuman, and not at all kind, for there were many sharp stones about, and the wretched creature would be cut and bruised, slamming into the large rocks and slashing himself with the others, in attempt to cut the rope. He constantly put up a racket, wailing and screaming, a horrible sound to listen to. He would wail and weep, and contort his body horribly. No, it was not a pretty sight.

"It burns us!" Gollum wailed. "Elveses twisted it, yess, nassty cruel Elveses!"

"Quiet, you! It's no use," cried Sam. "Half of Mordor is going to hear us if he keeps this up! Why don't we just tie him up and leave?"

"NO!" shrieked Gollum. "That would kill uss…nassty cruel hobbitses! Take it off uss! Don't kill uss!"

Frodo looked down at the miserable creature. He already felt the power of the Ring; he knew and understood what it had done to this creature. Gandalf's earlier words went racing through his head, as well as Adelaide's words concerning Gollum: _He's a bad guy, but not a bad guy, you get it? He's been broken and beaten into one shape, because nobody cared for him. Nobody liked him. I guess all he wants is a little pity and a little care. I think he's totally cool._

Gollum actually groveled. "We promise to help nice master!" he said, meaning Frodo. "We'll be nice to hobbitses, it they be nice to us! We swears to help the master of the precious!"

"There's no promise you can make that I can trust," said Frodo. Gollum looked at him. A strange look was in his eye. "We swears to serve the master of the precious," he repeated. "On the…precious! Yess, yess, on the precious!"

"The Ring is treacherous," said Frodo. "It will hold you to your word!"

"Yes, yes, on the precious!' Gollum chortled. "Now take it off us!" he pleaded, giving the most pitiful of looks and whining like a dog. Sam was seething with rage.

"I don't trust you!" he yelled, and came after Gollum. Gollum squealed and capered away from Sam. Sam caught the rope and jerked, yanking the creature brutally down the ground again. Gollum wailed pitifully and shrank against the rock.

"No, Sam!" cried Frodo, and pulled him back. "Now that I see him, I do pity him."

"Mr. Frodo, no!"

Frodo looked gently at Sam. Then he turned and leaned down to look into Gollum's face. "You know the way to Mordor," he said firmly. If all could work out, as he was planning, then all would possibly turn out for the better. Gollum flinched, as if the name wounded him, and then nodded, a little uncertain. "You've been there before," prodded Frodo. His eyes burned into the other's, and his lips were firm, resolute. Gollum really took this harsh, and shivered, but nodded, all the same. Frodo then undid the knot around Gollum's neck, and loosened him. Gollum stared at Frodo, as if he could not believe the little kindness that had been done to him. Frodo stared at Gollum, harshly, but not without pity.

"You will lead us to the Black Gate," he said.

In an instant, the creature was off his duff and scrambling off, with the agile speed of a spider. Frodo and Sam struggled to keep up. Every so once in a while, Gollum would stop, turn, and give them looks of "Why are you so slow?"

"Sillies!" he said. "Must follow Gollum. This way! Hurry!"

Frodo and Sam followed, not even sure what their ending would be.

But while Gollum was still a ways off from them, he stopped here and there, and spoke to himself, first with anger, then with resentment.

"To the gate, to the gate, to the gate, Master says!"

"No, we won't go back, not there, not to him, they can't make us, gollum, gollum!"

"But we swore to serve the master of the precious!"

"No, ashes and dust there is, and pits, pits, pits, and orcses, thousands of orcses, and always the great eye, watching! AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He turned and suddenly opened his mouth to the hobbits, displaying sharpened little teeth and a dried-up tongue, eyes burning in hate and sudden fear. With one bound he was off and running, scruyying like an ape over the rocks. In one minute he had totally disappeared.

"There! See? What did I tell you, Mr. Frodo? So much for his promises," Sam muttered.

Suddenly, Gollum popped back up, grinning. "This way, hobbits. Follow me!"

Frodo gave Sam a look and shrugged. Sam gritted his teeth and followed.

Well, at least they had found a guide.


	2. The Situation Looks Like This

Chapter 2

The Situation Looks Like This

**Okay, I really must apologize beforehand for the sad mess I made of the chronology. When I originally wrote this, I did not have Appendix B (the chronological order of events) on hand, and so my timing is drastically off, and my attempts to fix it are radically pathetic, but please try to put up with me. **

**I SO wanted Adelaide to meet Eowyn as a young woman first before getting her involved with the Shire or the Fellowship, so she could be reunited with her best friend again later, and it wasn't until later that I discovered that, according to the book, there were some time-and-age-related issues. But I'm stubborn, and I still wanted my way, so I fixed it the best I could.**

**It might be a wee bit cheesy, but please put up with it. I promise, Adelaide's mind will NOT flip her back and forth this often…only on necessary flashbacks.**

The Uruks thundered across the plains. They bore with them the hobbits, Merry and Pippin. Both hobbits bounced on the backs of their kidnappers, and Merry was sore with blood from a head-wound. Pippin looked over at him in fear. The memory of their kidnapping was still fresh and brutal in his mind: Merry, screaming and kicking in fear and rage; Boromir, dropping silently to his knees, stuck full of arrows like a pincushion…and now, where were the beasts taking them? Had Boromir survived to tell the others? Would they follow? Had Frodo gone off by himself, or had Sam raced after him?

"Merry?" he asked. "Merry? Say something!"

Merry groaned.

"Shut up!" called one of the Uruks. Pippin winced, and then, heart racing, made bold to speak again. These creatures would have killed them long ago if they didn't have a purpose in mind.

"My friend is hurt!" he said. "He needs medicine!"

The Uruk leader stopped them all and as the troop stopped marching, he came back and snarled at Pippin. Then he took a look at Merry and laughed. Grabbing a flagon from the nearest Uruk, he poured a black, evil-smelling liquid down Merry's throat. Merry choked and tried to spit it out.

"Stop it!" cried Pippin, anger welling up inside of him about his friend's treatment. "You're hurting him!"

"Did I hear someone say something?" an Uruk pretended to coo, and he leered in Pippin's face. "You want some, too? Shut up, if you know what's good for you!" He tried to press the flagon of the foul liquid to Pippin's lips, but the hobbit gagged and shoved it away as best he could, keeping his mouth tightly closed, and his eyes scrunched up tight.

"Ar! Can't take his medicine!" snarled a couple of the Uruks. "We'll have some fun later!"

"Fun? You'll have no fun now," snarled a new voice. A new set of orcs popped up from behind the rocks. These were thinner and more haggard looking, but they were orcs, and nasty all the same. "We've been waiting here for days. You're late! Our master grows impatient! He wants the Shire-rats now!"

"I don't take orders from orc-maggots." The leader of the Uruk-hai growled deep in his throat, staring the little vermin down with a look that put Stephen King's monsters to shame. "We are the fighting Uruk-hai. We'll take as long as we like."

"We'll take them from here!"

"No you won't, not if I have anything to say about it," said the other. "These are our wards, special for the white wizard. You'll come with us and join our picnic, but you'll have to run."

During this nasty exchange, Pippin leaned over to Merry.

"Merry?"

His friend cracked an eye, caked with dried blood. His lips pulled back in a slight smile as he blinked at Pippin. "Shh! It's just an act!"

"An act?" Pippin was still horrified. "Merry? Are you okay?"

"Sure," Merry grunted. "See, I fooled you too!"

"Merry?"

Merry grinned, and then put his head down wearily on the back of his captor. "Don't worry about me, Pip."

Suddenly, one of the Uruks stopped and sniffed the air. "What is it? What do you smell?" asked one.

"Manflesh!' said the other.

"They've picked up our trail!"

"Double time!" roared the leader, and all the Uruks, along with their newfound comrades, trundled away. But Pippin was thinking different thoughts; thoughts of hope.

"Aragorn," he said softly, and then had an idea. He would leave a marker. Tearing out his elven leaf brooch with his teeth, he cast it away, as a reminder and a tracker for Aragorn and anyone else that might follow. It was squelched into the mud. But it could be seen. And especially by a ranger like Aragorn.

Aragorn was listening to the sound of the Uruks, his ear pressed professionally against the stone, his long body stretched out and tense. The thundering footprints of his quarry had been moving at a pretty steady pace, but now the pulse of their feet doubled in time.

"Hurry," said Aragorn to his companions who were following.

"This is bullshit. I'm tired, and we're not going to catch up with them anyway."

"Adelaide, if I hear one more word…" Aragorn swung around and gave her a no-nonsense glare. "I'm tired of hearing your complaints, maid. We must try our best. Come! I know you're tired, but so are we all. Think of the danger your hobbits are in, and do the best you can."

Adelaide rolled her eyes. She hated running, and knew perfectly well that nothing was going to happen to the hobbits, but of course, being the Walking Information Center, she couldn't just go around proclaiming her knowledge to the world. So for now, she stuck her tongue out at Aragorn, and raced after him.

Legolas and Gimli followed close behind. Gimli didn't like the whole track-and-field stuff, but Legolas was on his feet, fleet and light.

"Come, Gimli!" he cried. Gimli growled, and tried to keep up the pace, huffing and puffing.

"I'm a dwarf! Dwarves don't run! Three days and nights in pursuit, and we still have no sign of our quarry!"

Over the plains and the large fields of rock they went, running as fast as they could, to try and catch those that they loved so dearly. The day was turning rapidly into evening. And still they pursued those fiends. Legolas became the night-owl, seeing in the dark for the others, and resting his mind at the same time, as Elves can do (a maddening habit, because he teased Adelaide about it). They did not stop to rest their bodies. They refused to be tireless, although Gimli was nearly reaching his limit, and Adelaide just hated running, period.

When they came across the place where Pippin had dropped the Elven brooch, Aragorn made an exclamation of hope.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall," he whispered, excitedly. Gimli huffed.

"Does this mean more running?" he asked, groaning. But the others were already off on the trail. Gimli groaned again. "If only my father could see me," he grumbled, and hurried after.

"Come, Gimli! We're gaining on them!" Legolas' voice was light and merry as ever, another habit that annoyed both the dwarf.

The dwarf huffed and puffed. "I'm wasted on cross-country! We dwarves are not lithe sprinters! Very dangerous for us short lads!"

Towards the evening, the runners mounted a small hill overlooking a vast plain that stretched for miles in either direction. In the distance, the Fellowship noted the hazy outlines of magnificent, purple-and-red mountains looming over the land. Adelaide suddenly gave a whoop and punched the air. It had been a long time since she'd walked the land of Rohan, wilderness of the horse-tamers.

"Yes! I love this place! It's, like, the best!"

"You know of Rohan, don't you?" Aragorn turned thoughtfully to her.

"Hell, yeah!"

"Do you know any of the language?" asked Aragorn.

"It's no big deal. They speak English anyway, so they know what the heck I'm saying."

"Do you know of this place very well?"

"Uh…sure. If you mean, 'does Adelaide know where the hell she's going,' then yes, I can show you around."

"We will need that skill, then, maid."

"Good Lord, are you trying to tell me you know nothing yourself? So much for Streetwise Strider!"

"I know very little maid. I came here once as a lad, but I have not had the fortune to stay for so long. My business has been away up North, in the hills, and protecting a certain folk no higher than your hip. So be merciful to me, lady, and spare me your tongue."

"Boy, you are a sour pussy today."

"I am not."

"You are, too."

"Adelaide, I shall lose my temper."

"TAG! YOU'RE IT!" Adelaide whooped and tore off down the hill. Aragorn cursed under his breath and followed. The girl was in one of her roller-coaster moods today. Gimli and Legolas caught up swiftly. They continued that way, running over the hills, and trying to stay out of the way of the villages, since it appeared that the orcs had not gone that way.

"Breathe! That's the key. Breathe!" huffed Gimli. Legolas looked back and him and chuckled. Then he looked outwards towards the sun and frowned.

"They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them!" he cried.

"Something ill gives speed to these creatures," murmured Aragorn. "That sets its will against ours."

Finally they came to more hills and rocky plains, and it was that they were able to get a good view of the whole valley, and where their foe might be headed. Then Legolas leaped upon a hill, and looked out over the plains with his fair eyes, his golden hair blowing into the wind.

"Legolas, what do your Elf-eyes see?" asked Aragorn.

"They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them," said Legolas, and gasped. "The Uruks turn Northeast…they're taking the hobbits to Isenguard!"

"Sauruman," said Aragorn grimly.

Let us take a peep into the past.

Though Adelaide did not know it, she was returning to a land that she had left only eight months ago. Her mind had thrown her forwards and backwards, and now, somehow, some way, she was all up to speed. Eight months ago, according to the time in Rohan, Grima had come along and destroyed their lives forever. His main concern had been separating the two girls that clung together for protection against him, for Adelaide was the kind of girl who protected her girl-friends at any cost, and Eowyn was the object of his desire. Neither girl liked Grima, but Adelaide was especially nasty; henceforth, she had to go. And not a single man had found her after searching for eight months because her imagination had been working overdrive. So much for the warrant.

But Eowyn had remained behind, brokenhearted and in a worse state than ever. And this is an account of what transpired between then and now.

Even during the time before Grima's establishment in Rohan as the King's Councilor, Sauruman had made himself like a lord of men, extending his friendship to Theoden, though his designs against Rohan were evil, and he built himself up in Isenguard, drawing all who hated Gondor and Rohan to him. With one hand he flattered and pretended concern for the King; with the other, he stirred up hatred among the people who had no respect for Theoden. Through Grima, to whom the wizard had promised a share of treasure AND Eowyn, Sauruman closed the King's ears and mind to the dangers in his land.

Theoden was torn down by Grima, who muttered lies into his ear…lies about his age, his weaknesses, and his land. Little by little, Theoden came completely under the influence of Grima and his master, Sauruman.

Eowyn alone endured her uncle, taking care of him as best she could, for she could not stand to see him growing old and decrepit under Grima's lies. Worse yet was the lustful figure of Grima as he prowled the halls like a snake, waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting mouse. However, Eowyn was no naïve little girl, and kept a dagger handy. She felt caged, trapped by a duty that bound her to an old, failing man, but even that she might have endured if only Grima didn't paw at her like he did. War was brewing, and King Theoden's son, Theodred, was on his deathbed. The king could do nothing.

To make matters worse, Eomer got kicked out of his own house. And this is how that happened:

Eomer stalked into the presence of the king, in a really bad mood.

"Your majesty," he said. "My Lord. There have been frequent attacks upon our people. Orcs have come, from Isenguard, and they are killing our people."

"_That_ is a lie," hissed Grima, coming forth from the shadows. His was a presence only a mother could love, and even then, Eomer doubted whether Grima's mother had lived long enough to even TRY to love it. "Sauruman has ever been our friend and ally!" Grima continued, blinking in the thin beams of light that fell across the throne, highlighting his pale forehead and greasy, black locks.

"Orcs have attacked our people," repeated Eomer, not really paying any attention to Grima. "Orcs bearing the white hand of Sauruman." He threw down an orc helmet, and upon it was a painted white hand. Grima stared at this evidence, and looked foolish. But a foolish snake is ever cunning, and still tried to bluster.

"Why do you trouble your king's mind with such things?" he asked Eomer, tenderly sitting down by the king's side. "Can you not see? Your uncle is wearied by your malcontent. Your war-mongering. For all that you say is nothing but a pack of lies," he turned a hated glance upon Eomer, which was so bastardly sneaky and maddening, that Eomer picked him up and heaved him against a pillar.

"Warmongering? You filthy fiend!" he said. "When did Sauruman buy you? What was the promised price? When all the men were dead you would pick your share of the treasure, and take the woman you desire?"

Grima's eyes betrayed him, flickering to a movement behind Eomer, who turned to follow his gaze. There walked past Eowyn, beautiful in the sunlight, with golden hair and a soft, sad gaze, a shieldmaiden, but sad and lonely…and, at the moment, royally PO'd. And now as she left, Grima looked with pity and regret upon her, and Eomer grabbed him, squeezing him in anger. "You sick, indecent bastard! How dare you? But of course, what could I expect from a worm? Too long have you watched my sister and haunted her steps!" he said. "You deserve to die for your actions! I swear, if you touch her, I will kill you myself!"

At that moment, Eomer was grabbed from behind by guards loyal to the king and Grima. Grima grinned wickedly. "You see much, Eomer, son of Eomund," he said. "But to touch a king's advisor with murderous intentions is illegal, and so I can only sentence you to banishment. You are to leave Rohan, and never return, under penalty of death!"

"You are not the king! I have no subject to you! Your orders mean nothing!"

"Ah, but they do. Besides, this order does not come from me. It comes from the king. I have a warrant for you. And the king signed it, only this morning." He smiled evilly.

Eomer roared and lunged forward, but Grima's men were loyal, and rained punches down upon his struggling form. His body, still kicking, was thrown out, and so the nephew of the King of Rohan rode away with a wounded pride and boiling vengeance in his heart. His band of healthy young men followed him. And so did Rohan lose their warriors quickly, and left only the old and so many young, under age. And that is how Grima came to higher power, and so Sauruman did indeed hold a masterful control of Rohan.

Now let us return to the present.

Night fell on the borders of Fangorn Forest. The orcs and the Uruk-hai, still bearing Merry and Pippin, collapsed almost as one by the edge of the forest. Panting, gasping, moaning and groaning were heard all around.

"We ain't goin' no further, 'til we've had a breather!" roared one Uruk. A fire was ordered, and so they began to hack murderously at the trees. The trees actually began to groan.

Pippin, on his belly, with his hands tied, struggled over to Merry. But Merry did not pay any attention to him. He was listening to the trees. He bade Pippin listen also, for it was really very interesting.

"What's that?" asked Pippin.

"It's the trees!"

"The trees?"

"Listen!" Merry said. "Remember the tales we used to hear about the Old Forest? There were trees there. Strange songs were sung about the waters there. There was something in it that made the trees come alive. They could talk…even move."

The orcs, however, didn't seem to care about the darn trees, because they were more interested in a topic that was concerning everybody: Food.

"We've had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days!" grumbled one orc.

"Yeah!" said another. "Why can't we have some meat?" His gaze roamed around, and finally fell upon Merry and Pippin, looking very much like juicy, plump chickens. Sort of. "What about them?" he sneered, snot coming out of his nose, and his red eyes gleaming. "They're fresh!"

"They are not for eating!" snarled the leader. "They are for Sauruman! If any one touches them, I'll have their head!"

"And who put you in charge?" snarled another.

"I did," said the Uruk. "You've got no business saying those things. I have my orders."

"Can't we just eat their legs? They don't need them! Oh, they look tasty!"

The Uruk marched over and glared at the orc. "I said, no! They are not for eating; Sauruman wants them alive and unspoiled!"

"Alive? Why alive? What for? Do they make good sport?" His thin black tongue hung out and he licked his lips. The Uruk-Hai leader snarled at him.

"The master wants them. They have something…an Elvish weapon. The master wants it for the war."

"An Elvish weapon, huh? So what is it, anyway? A knife? Can't we take it and be done with it?"

"You put a hand near them, and I'll shoot you full of maggot-holes!" The Uruk snarled as the orc put out a hand towards the hobbits. He leapt back a pace and hissed like a scorched cat, showing jagged teeth and the whites of his eyes.

"And who do you think you are, Mr. High and Mighty?"

"I am Urglot, leader here by choice of the White Hand, so don't you say another word! I'll put maggot-holes in your belly first."

"You ought to talk! Whoever is leader is straight to the torture rack. Where's the female, eh?"

Merry and Pippin pricked up their ears.

"In case you haven't heard, what with all the mud in your filthy ears," snarled the orc. "There's an alien, a female human, wanted by the Higher Up. They say she's a spy…a most useful spy."

"Oh, and we don't have enough of those," gurgled Urglot. "What's the use in another one…and female, at that? We all know what females are good for," he added, and laughed, a sickening sound that churned the hobbits' stomachs. "You either mate them or eat them!"

"You stupid fool! Haven't you been listening to all the rumors? Haven't you heard anything that was spoken to us? This human is from another place, another time. By all accounts, I'd say she's a witch, with a gift for prophecy, and only she knows what will happen in the future. She's about as useful as any weapon the Master might need for the War. She could be the key to a certain victory!"

"Oh? If she's so special, then let the wizard go out and get himself killed. She had an Elf warrior protecting her, and two men, and a dwarf. And she killed Gurg with a single thrust. A lucky shot, I'd call it, but she still swung the sword around like a crazy person. Let's see how the wizard likes getting mauled!"

"That's an interesting remark," sneered another. "I may have to report that." And with that remark, the orcs and Uruks fell into an argument again, pushing, shoving, and swearing. Pippin looked over at Merry.

"They think we have the Ring!"

"Shh! As soon as they find out we don't, we're dead!"

Meanwhile, another hungry orc had come upon Merry and Pippin.

"Enjoying yourselves?" he leered. "You'd be nice and tasty, I have no doubt—just a mouthful…a bit off the flank—" he raised his sword.

"Stop that!" roared the Uruk, and pulled the orc back. It fought, and literally got its head chopped off. He grinned. "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!"

Shouts of hurrah filled the air, and the orcs set about to eating their dead comrade. "Shh! We've got to be quiet!" Merry hushed his cousin. "We have to do something now, while they're fighting. Come on!"

Crawling on their stomachs, the hobbits inched themselves backwards, little by little, hoping to go unnoticed. They were nearly at the forest edge when suddenly, a foot slammed down on Merry's back. He cried out in pain, and an orc face peered into his, blood running down his nose.

"Going somewhere, lads?" asked the orc. He pinned them to the floor. "I'll eat you if it's the last thing I do! Go on! Call for help! Squeal! Because no one's going to save you now!"

He had his knife out. Merry and Pippin struggled wildly, trying to free themselves. All seemed as if it would be in vain. The knife was upraised…and it never fell. Something struck the orc through the hand, causing him to scream. Suddenly, a lot of commotion could be heard: The sound of horses and men yelling, and the panicking orcs and Uruks. Merry and Pippin found themselves in the middle of things. It was horrible. They were separated for a little while, and Pippin found himself on the ground, rolling, and right underneath the hooves of a horse. To the hobbit, the horse was bigger than a pony, and lay there screaming, waiting for the End.


	3. Huston, We Have Problems

Chapter 3

Huston, We Have Problems

**Alright, Eomer fans! This chapter's for you!**

Legolas ran ahead, and suddenly stopped. He looked about. The day was dawning, but the dawn was an unnatural shade of red.

"A red sun rises," he murmured. "Blood has been spilled this night."

Adelaide was tired. Running all day and all through the night had wearied her, and her body was not built for that kind of endurance. She had to take her asthma medicine more than ten times already, and her lungs felt as if they were on fire. Now her steps lagged considerably, and her eyes began to droop. Half-asleep, and not looking where she was going, Adelaide tripped and fell. She lay on the ground for a moment, feeling the cold ground on one cheek, and the warmth of the sun on the other. She just wanted to lay there forever.

_It's February in Middle Earth. Spring isn't far away now…but it's still winter. The ground is cold and hard. Man, I hate cold weather. Wish I was in Florida right now with an ice-cold mint mojita. Oh yeah. I need a drink. Two, maybe. Chocolate would be even better, though. God, I miss my Hershey bars and chocolate Easter bunnies…_

"Aragorn, she is starting to eat the dirt," Gimli remarked.

A hand touched Adelaide's body, and she ignored it. "Go 'way," she muttered. "Fuck you. I wan' my choc'lat."

"Hungry, Adelaide?"

She mumbled, no, and raised her head sleepily. Good God, there was dirt on her mouth. She spit it out, eyes filling with tears. So much for chocolate bunnies.

"Come on, my lass. Up you get."

Adelaide groaned, her body rebelling against the man's urging. Then she felt soft hands reach beneath her arms, pulling at her body gently, trying to help her up.

"My lady, please."

Fire sprang back into Adelaide's body. How could she have been so foolish as to reveal such a weak side to the Elf? She jerked out of his grip as if he were burning iron; struggling to her feet, she opened her eyes, pressed her lips together, and stumbled forward. Running came easier when she thought of how the Elf was looking at her. She did not dare show such weakness again!

As anyone might guess by now, Legolas was extremely confused.

A few days ago, on the River Anduin, she sat in his boat and chatted pleasantly. Now she was all pins and needles, and he couldn't understand it. Surely there wasn't something still between her and the hobbit! He had gone off alone to Mordor, had not taken the love of his life along. Surely that meant he could not love her! (At least, that's what Legolas WANTED to think.) At any rate, the rules were clear: All's fair in love and war, and perhaps the girl would not wait for the hobbit. Now, away from him, she had a chance to see the kind of love an Elf had to offer—which was, of course, much better than a hobbit's simple, country infatuation.

To be fair, Legolas was in love, and when you're in love, of course, it makes you think and do very foolish and non-rational things. I don't know exactly why the Elf was mooning so over a mortal young lady, aside from the fact that she simply fascinated him. Of course, she had her physical beauties, though Legolas had seen finer—Adelaide couldn't hold a candle to the majority of Elven women, and there were a good deal finer mortal women in the world than she—and yet she had something they didn't.

Perhaps it was her confidence. He longed to explore her mind (and body!) more, but Adelaide rarely gave him that chance. He wanted to be friendly. Adelaide wanted him to roll off the face of the planet.

Towards midday, the Fellowship crossed the plains and passed into the Gap of Rohan, marked by large rock formations pushing violently out from the ground. As they hurried down the steep slopes to the valley below, Aragorn paused. Hoofbeats, distinct and loud, were coming their way. Aragorn quickly motioned for the others to hide. He pressed back against a rock with Legolas, and Adelaide pulled Gimli into her lap, giggling as the dwarf muttered a whole lot of bad language in his native dialect.

Then she stopped.

Over the hill came men on horseback, bearing weapons and banners. These were the banners of Rohan, and Adelaide knew them all too well. By sight, she spotted the leader, who, though dressed in military garb, couldn't fool her for a minute. Only one man could ride a horse as if he were King of the World.

"Oh, they're harmless!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper. "It's just Eomer and his gang. Come on, let's go see 'em!"

And before Aragorn could stop her, Adelaide leapt from her hiding place and tore off down the hill. "HEY! EOMER! OVER HERE! OI! COME BACK AND SAY HELLO, YOU FRUITCAKE! HEY, GUYS, WAIT UP!"

The riders quickly changed direction. Before Adelaide was quite aware of what was happening, they bore down on her, and she instantly started running in the opposite direction. Aragorn, sighing, ran down the hill with Legolas and Gimli, and Adelaide smacked into them. Aragorn grabbed her and shoved her behind him, shielding her from the approaching horses.

"Riders of Rohan!" called Aragorn. "What news of the Mark?"

In an instant, the riders had the remaining Fellowship surrounded. Silver-tipped spears were pointed sharply at their faces. There was no possible escape, and Adelaide trembled. What exactly had she done? These WERE the Rohirrim…right?

"Who are you, and what names do you give in this land?" said the leader. "What business does a man, and Elf, a dwarf, and some youth have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!" He was a tall man, with a helmet of hair, and his eyes, though dark, were piercing. Gimli did not like the look of him and planted his feet solidly into the ground.

"Give me your name, master horse rider, and I shall give you mine," he said. The leader glared at him and dismounted. His hand was at this sword-hilt, and Aragorn sighed. This was not a good beginning.

"I would cut off your head, dwarf, beard and all, if it but stood a little higher off the ground," he snapped. Instantly, Legolas whipped out an arrow, strung it, and pointed it the person who had not only threatened his friend, but had stolen away his beloved also. His face twisted in rage. "You would die before your stroke fell!" he cried.

Instantly, all was astir, and the arrows closed in about Legolas and Gimli. Aragorn motioned with his hands. "Peace," he said, while Gimli blew out his breath. He'd had a close call. "We mean no harm. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, is my name, and with me is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas, son of Thurandil of the woodland realm. And this—"

Adelaide popped out from behind Aragorn, no longer frightened. "He knows my name," she said. "Unless Eomer, son of Eomund suddenly forgot ol' Puff Adder."

Eomer turned his gaze on her and took a good, long look. His mouth broke the record for the lowest-jaw drop.

"Feodral?"

She simply beamed and gave a little wave.

"Holy Valar!" Eomer swore. "Damnation altogether! What the hell are you doing back here, maid? There's a price on your head!"

"Aw, that's no way to talk to an old friend who extended your vocabulary, Eomer. Tell your men to lower their spears. We're not enemies!"

She was surprised at the authority in her voice, and shyly watched as the men lowered their guard. Eomer too, stared at her in pride and joy, and he couldn't keep the happiness out of his voice as he finally managed to speak to her.

"Great Valar! Look at you!" he burst out. "Dare I believe my eyes, girl? I never should have thought I'd see you again! You have no idea…Eowyn sobbed her heart out. No one could find you, and we took you for dead. My poor sister…" Eomer quieted when he noticed the stillness in his young friend's face. "But come! Let us speak of other things. You look quite lovely."

"Oh, bullshit. I've been sweating like a pig, and I need a bath."

"But your eyes are as sparkling as ever."

"Oh, turn that off, Eomer."

"On the condition that you come to Edoras, maid."

"I ain't going anywhere until I know what the hell is going on."

"Listen to this charming creature! As if she never knew, eh, Puff-Adder?"

"You're stupid, Eomer."

"I must apologize for her—" Aragorn began, shocked at this rather foolhardy display of affection when there were lives at stake. Leave it to Adelaide to treat the situation so off-handedly!

Eomer sighed. "Try introducing us to your friends, maid. Friends of Feodral will be our friends as well. But first, maid, forgive me my ill-conduct. I mistook you for a spy." He kissed her hand. Adelaide couldn't help laughing.

"I can't stay mad at you. You're too squishable. Oh, and these people are with me. That man there is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. He carries me around. The Elf is Legolas Greenleaf, son of King Thranduil. He fans me. The dwarf is my slobbering sex slave of passion, and his name is Gimli, son of Gloin."

"What have I told you about flirting?" Eomer said furiously. "And you're a horrible liar, Adelaide. Lord Aragorn, you have my permission to chuck her in the ditch anytime you please. But an Elf! Since when does the Puff-Adder associate with those she hates?"

Adelaide cringed. "Oh, please. Awkward Turtle. Don't make things difficult for golden-boy there. We have necessity."

"We are friends to King Theoden," said Aragorn.

"Since when?" Adelaide snapped, but Eomer turned to stare at him, regarding Aragorn with brown eyes heavy with manly grief.

"King Theoden no longer recognizes friends," he said. "Not even his own kin." And as he said so, he pulled the helmet from his head to reveal dark golden curls and a neatly-trimmed beard. His bearing, Aragorn noted, was proud and strong, like a king's. A good man to have as an ally! Adelaide grinned. Then she frowned.

"Let me guess," she said. "Grima Wormtongue."

"Oh, how did you possibly know?" Eomer looked sarcastic.

"Well, it couldn't have been Teddy's canaries."

"Teddy?" asked Aragorn, a little bewildered. Eomer laughed.

"That is Puff-Adder's nickname for my uncle. Apparently it was the same nickname for a great king in her world—"

"President Theodore Roosevelt was not a king, Eomer."

"Is she not clever?"

"Oh my gosh. Look who thinks he's hysterical." Adelaide blushed sharply. "Can you get back to Wormtongue? What's he up to this time, signing warrants for the arrest of goats?"

"Nay, maid. When Wormtongue came, there was much destruction that he did...he has placed a heavy tax on the people, and has recalled the guards from the outer territories. The Golden Hall is heavily guarded, but no such defense is given to the borders of our land. Grima feels there is no need for such things, and yet not a full month ago did the king's son fall in battle against orcs from Sauruman."

"Wait a minute," Adelaide interrupted. "Theodred? Ted's dead, too?"

"I pray not yet, though the wounds he suffered were extremely severe. We know he fought bravely, though, Adelaide."

"He won't live long if Grima has anything to say about it!"

"Grima may not need to get his hands dirty," Eomer growled. "Theodred was quite unconscious when I left him. But that is not the only thing. The men from the wild lands are burning our villages, killing our people, and raping the women. Dead children are found near the river. And you have not yet seen Rohan itself, Adelaide."

"I don't have to," Adelaide snapped. "I know what's happening."

"But…but how…?" Eomer looked at her curiously, and Adelaide suddenly remembered that no one in Rohan had any idea about the Walking Information Center. She cleared her throat.

"I, ah…I—"

Eomer's mouth dropped. "Do you mean that YOU are the spy that everyone has spoken of? They said in Gondor that there was a prophetess running around, one who knew everything about…well, everything in our history, and the future of our land…do you mean to say that—"

Adelaide nodded.

"Oh Good Lord." Eomer put his hand to his head and then captured Adelaide's hands. "What the hell are you doing here, running around in unsafe territory? Feodral, do you not know that Sauruman is looking for you?"

"I do, but—"

"You're insane, maid!" Eomer shook her. "The white wizard is cunning. He walks in the garb of an old man. He puts a spell on all who see him, and his tongue is full of falsehoods! Already he has turned many villages upon Rohan; he has won many over to his side. People kill people, and villages of Rohan burn. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets. This is the man who is here, walking abroad in our land, and he is out to get the 'prophetess,' as they call her—I mean, you! This is the man who would get his slimy claws on you, girl!"

"Well, he isn't going to!" Adelaide snapped. "I'll kick him in the balls first!"

"And she will," Aragorn backed her up, remembering Bill Ferny.

"You still have not stated your business here in Rohan," said a Rider harshly. "Whither do you go, and why do you wander our realm without permission?"

"We're bird-watching," Adelaide's voice dripped with sarcasm, and barely felt Aragorn slap her shoulder, roughly.

"We are tracking orcs," he replied, patience tested. "They have taken some friends of ours captive."

Eomer was silent. "Not three days ago did we overrun a troop of orcs," he said softly. "We killed them, and burned their bodies." He gestured over to the East a little, and there could be seen a smoke, rising faintly. Adelaide covered her mouth.

"Oh gross!"

"Hobbits!" cried Gimli. "Were there any hobbits among them?"

"That's really nasty."

"They would be short, only children to your eyes," said Aragorn.

"I mean, that is just totally disgusting. You couldn't have done it any other way?"

Eomer was silent for a moment.

"We left none alive," he said, totally ignoring Adelaide. Silence filled the air.

"Dead?" gasped Gimli. Eomer nodded.

"I fear it so. I am sorry." Then he whistled, and called two horses. "Hasupfel! Arod!" Two horses came, one restive and fiery (Arod) and the other noble and complacent (Hasupfel). To the four companions, he gave these horses. "May they bear you with ease, and to better fortune than their former masters," he said. "I give you leave to ride in our land, especially if you have Feodral with you. But I must warn you, Feodral, that if you touch the borders of Edoras, you shall be shot on sight...I think, anyway. I daresay you remember that there is a warrant out for your death?"

"Why the hell is that thing still in effect?"

"Because nobody has torn it up yet."

Adelaide sighed. "Oh, what the fuck, anyway."

The leader of the Rohirrim ruffled the girl's hair. "That's the Adelaide I remember," he said fondly. He mounted his horse and turned to Aragorn. "Look for your friends," he said. "But do not look to hope." His eyes stretched over the broad plains and in them was a lost glance and a cold wind. "It has deserted these lands," he added softly, grimly. "We ride north!" he cried.

The Riders of Rohan passed the small group in a thunder of hooves and a cloud of dust. Gimli stared at Adelaide.

"There is a warrant for your arrest?"

"Well, at least I didn't do anything to feel guilty about it."

"That is how I came to know of her," said Aragorn, swinging up upon Hasupfel. "They passed the warrant out as far as the forest in which I roamed, and even into Bree, but no further. That is why she was safe in the Shire. But it would seem that even though the warrant is still in effect, nobody is too interested in tailing her," he added, winking at Adelaide. "But why does he call you 'Puff-Adder'?"

"Argh. It's an inside joke. My dad used to call me 'Adder' or 'Adders,' when I was a little girl because I put everything in my mouth, and I could bite hard. Eomer sneaked up on me one day and grabbed he from behind, covering my mouth with his hand…and, er…I bit him pretty hard. His hand was in a bandage for a week. He called me 'Puff-Adder' after that one. I totally did not mean to hurt him, but the name sort of stuck. And now the entire land of Rohan thinks I'm rabid or something."

"A dragon," Legolas murmured admiringly. "And now, Gimli, you must ride. You will hinder us if you don't."

"But which one?" asked Gimli, nervously looking from Arod to Hasupfel. Legolas smiled, and leaped lightly upon Arod's back. Instantly, the horse was tame and willing beneath him, and the Elf handled him with such gentleness and caresses, that Adelaide could not help wishing that she were riding with Legolas, putting her arms around a sturdy, protective—

Oh, fuck it.

Adelaide swung up behind Aragorn voluntarily, while Gimli mounted behind Legolas.

It was not a far ride—about a fifteen minute drive in a 4x4 Toyota. The smell of decayed flesh and burning fat reached their nostrils before the real sight ever did. Smoke rose from a huge mound of dead orcs and Uruks, piled high with all the armory included. At least a hundred had been slaughtered. One's head was spitted upon a spear, as if in warning.

"Good Lord, someone had a fucking-bad day!"

"Adelaide!"

"What? It's not like I'm desecrating anything."

Aragorn and Gimli began fishing around with their weapons. Adelaide kicked a couple of helmets around. She already knew that the hobbits would not be found among the pile of dead orcs. But when Gimli picked out an Elvish shealth…the one given to Pippin in Lothlorien…she began to wonder. Gimli's face betrayed his dismay and his horror.

"It's one of their belts…we failed them."

Adelaide swallowed hard. Legolas hung his head, and chanted something softly in Elvish. Aragorn was probably the most irritated. Kicking an orc helmet at least fifty feet like a soccer ball, he fell to his knees.

"!" he yelled with terrific chest tone. He whirled around and grabbed Adelaide, shaking her hard so suddenly, that Adelaide squealed in fright.

"YOU KNEW, AND YOU DID NOT WARN US! WHY COULD YOU NOT HAVE TOLD US, MAID? Now they are dead! We had a chance to save them, if you had only told us! You know everything, and yet you don't say a word—"

Legolas wrenched Adelaide from Aragorn's grip, and the man fell to the ground, trembling. Adelaide broke free of Legolas' arms and stood in front of Aragorn, her fists clenched in anger.

"What the fuck are you yelling at me for? You have no fucking business yelling at me like that! Tolkien wouldn't kill off his hobbits! Now stop moping and yelling, and look at the fucking ground! We still have hope. Look at this." She held it out to him, and he snatched it up. It was a piece of rope.

"They died without captivity, then, maid, what's to hope for?" asked Gimli. Adelaide glared at him.

"Aragorn is a fucking RANGER. If he'd just stop moping and look about, he'd see what I see."

Aragorn did stop moping, and began to look at the ground. "A hobbit lay here!" he said, in surprise. He began to do a little bit of expert tracking. "He rolled this way… out of the danger of horse-prints, it looks like. He crawled over here…and cut his bonds…look! Another rope! And here…" he began to track. "The signs lead away from the battle!" he said. "Here, the hobbits ducked under a horse here, and ran…into Fangorn Forest." He turned and looked at Adelaide, a little embarrassed.

"I owe you an apology, Adelaide. You were right to keep silent. I should not have lost my temper like that, shake you, and yell in your face. Forgive me."

Adelaide shrugged her shoulders and gave a little smile. "It's okay. We're all worn out and tired. I'd have yelled, too. But this posse isn't over yet. Let's make like Indiana Jones and explore the unknown wonders of Fangorn."

Gimli gritted his teeth. "What's so wonderful about a nasty old forest?" he griped.

"It is a forest of great age," said Legolas. "Strange songs have been sung of the powers of this forest."

"Powers?" Adelaide rolled her eyes. "Oh please. Don't you start, Legolas. You of all people. You're a tree-hugger. Gimli was bad enough in Lothlorien, but you! You're an Elf, for crying out loud! Greenpeace and everything!"

"Greenleaf, my lady."

"I meant exactly what I said. You're a tree-hugger, any which way you look at it."

"Lothlorien is not like Fangorn," said Legolas. "There is live power here. I can feel it."

"And I suppose the next thing you'll tell us is that the trees walk and talk!" Gimli snapped.

Legolas had eyes only for Adelaide. "I know not," he said. "But there have been legends and songs."

Adelaide rolled her eyes. Legolas, of all people.

Let us progress a few days ago. I think you can understand, by Aragorn's tracking, that the hobbits made it into Fangorn forest alive and unharmed. Scrambling for safety, they plopped down near the base of a tree, in the center of a very old forest, and panted for breath.

"Did we lose him? I think we lost him," panted Pippin. However, as they sat panting near the base of a large tree, they suddenly heard a terrible voice after them. Apparently, one orc didn't want to die; he still wanted his roast hobbit legs.

"Where are you, you filthy little rats? I'm going to skin you alive, put out your guts, and string you up on a tree!"

Merry and Pippin exchanged terrified looks and then bolted off. Thankfully, they managed to bolt off without making much of a noise, but leaves rustled, and the orc charged after them. He was very quick.

"Climb a tree!" instructed Merry, and Pippin started up one first, an old tree, full of wrinkles and twining limbs. Merry started up after him, but was immediately pulled back down by the orc. He gave a cry of pain as the orc threw him to the ground and pounced on his savagely.

"Now, you little filth! I'm going to put a maggot-hole in your belly!"

"Merry!" screamed Pippin. For a second, he glanced at the tree. Then he stopped. He turned again. The tree had eyes! It was blinking at him, Peregrin Took! Pippin gasped.

"AAAGGHH!"

The great tree, or thing, or whatever it was shook it leafy head, as if stretching after a long nap. Then, to Pippin's astonishment, the tree grasped him, and began to move! Merry, struggling with the orc on the ground, looked up, saw the moving tree, and gasped. The orc, possibly not as dumb as he looked, turned just in time to see a rooted foot step down and crunch him into the dirt, spilling guts. Merry got up and started to run.

"Run, Merry!" cried Pippin, but the thing was faster, and caught up the young hobbit in a branchy fist. Merry cried out in fear as the thing held them to his face and looked them over with suspicious eyes.

"Hoom!" it said, in a deep, rumbling voice. "Who are you? I don't recall seeing you in Fangorn forest before! Little orcs, _burarum_!" It walked as it talked.

"Merry," whispered Pippin. "The tree is talking, Merry."

"Tree?" the thing looked insulted. "I am no tree. I am an Ent."

"And Ent!" cried Merry in surprise. "A tree-herder! A shepherd of trees!"

"Don't talk to it, Merry," said Pippin, in fright. "Don't encourage it!"

"Treebeard, they call me," said the Ent.

"And…whose side are you on?" asked Pippin, getting up enough courage.

"Hoom! I am on nobody's side, because no one is on my side. Nobody cares for these woods anymore. But who are you? You look like orcs to me." He growled, deep in his throat, a low, rumbling, angry sound. "Rum! Hoom! Orcs! They come with fire! They come with axes! They seek to destroy that which is living! Gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning!"

"But we're not orcs!' cried Merry. "We're hobbits! Shire-folk! Halflings!"

"You look like orcs to me," repeated Treebeard, and began to crush the poor hobbits, out of anger for the hated orcs. "Sounds like orc mischief to me!"

"But we're not!" screamed Merry, losing his breath. "We're hobbits!"

"Maybe you are, and maybe you aren't," said Treebeard. "The white wizard will know."

"The white wizard!" gasped Pippin.

"Sauruman!" whispered Merry, in fright.

Treebeard dumped them off at the feet of a man dressed in white. They looked up, trembling.

Expecting the worst.


	4. The Return of the Wizard

Chapter 4

The Return of the Wizard

Samwise Gamgee had read about bogs.

But none of those could even hold a candle to the one they now faced.

The hobbits stood in front of an eerie expansion of swampland that stretched for miles in every direction. A low, gray mist hovered just above the bubbling pools of murky, dark water and sparse patches of spongy, weedy ground. Small tongues of fire danced on the surface of the clearer puddles. The air was heavy, filled with moisture and the stench of decay. So, trying not to breathe the odor too strongly, the hobbits waded forth.

Gollum knew his way about the swamp as if he'd been born there. Even Sam had to admit that, while a bog wasn't the best of shortcuts, if it had to be taken, Gollum was the best guide for it. He led the hobbits safely around the flames and holes, muttering to himself and saying little to the hobbits he was guiding.

Sam looked down and screamed.

"There are faces! Dead faces in the water!" he cried. Gollum smirked at him.

"Yess! Yes, dead faces. All rotting, foul, and dead. Long time ago, there was a great battle. Orcses, Elves, and men. The bog swallowed up the dead. Don't look at the lights! Or little hobbitses go down and light little candles of their own!"

Frodo didn't respond. The weight of the Ring was growing on him, and he now felt an incessant desire to lie down and sleep. It didn't help that Middle Earth had not yet been introduced to fast-food restaurants. The hobbits were sore, hungry, and tired.

"Why this way, Gollum?" asked Sam.

"Safe paths, yes, very safe. Orcs don't use it; orcs don't know it. It goes for miles. Swift and quick as shadows we must be!"

"Not 'til Mr. Frodo's had a bite," Sam insisted, halting and catching his master by the arm. "Near midday it must be, and not a bite since breakfast. Here, Mr. Frodo, let's have a picnic, shall we?"

Frodo couldn't help smiling. "Shall we imagine that it's the lazy apple tree by the river, Sam? And we're smelling strawberries and cream instead of dead bodies and swamp-water?"

"Don't joke, Mr. Frodo. Though, that is a good idea."

The lembas bread felt like a 10-course Italian supper. Gollum, seeing that they were not offering him any, scrambled at the water, and then brought up a wriggling worm. He popped it into his mouth and slurped it up like spaghetti. Sam felt bile rise in his stomach, but pushed it back down, and bit off a piece of his lembas.

"I hate this place," he muttered. "It's too quiet."

"Not a bird!" said Frodo mournfully.

"No, no birds!" said Gollum, still munching. "No birdses to eat, no crunchable birdses! Famished we are, yes precious, very famished!"

Frodo threw a piece of his lembas at Gollum. "Here," he said quietly. "Try and eat that."

Gollum picked up the bread and sniffed it. "Is it crunchable? Is it tasty?" he asked, and nibbled. Instantly, he threw it away, and a spasm of disgust and loathing poured over his features, as if he had been fed acid instead of bread. "Ach! No, no, no, no! You try to choke us! Poor Gollum! We shall starve!"

"Well, starve then! And good riddance!" Sam muttered.

"Stupid, fat hobbit!" growled Gollum. "It isn't funny, no, he doesn't know! He doesn't care if we're starving! He doesn't care if we die! Not like master! But master knows! Yes, master knows! Master cares!"

He came over and pawed at Frodo, smiling to please. His eyes, huge and bright, now turned mournful and pitying. His voice became soft as his fingers stretched out to touch the Ring, almost in a loving caress. "Once it takes hold of uss…it never lets go!"

Frodo shook off Gollum's hands.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped. Gollum retreated, and grumbled, trying to search out more worms, or something. Frodo and Sam continued their meal in silence.

As the hobbits continued their trek, Frodo began to feel wearier and wearier. The burden was dastardly heavy, and he wished that he could rest. But Gollum was very frantic. He seemed to think that there was something wrong with a little nap or two. Maybe he never slept. But it was hard to say with him. Sam kept a close eye on him. He was distrustful of the wretched creature, and this Frodo knew well. Perhaps it was good to have a small distrust of him, for who could say? And yet Frodo had to pity Gollum. He was wretched, poor thing, and starving. The Ring had done this to him. It had made a slave out of him, and thoroughly ruined his life. Frodo hoped to at least try to save him, and bring him back into a world of goodness. Sam didn't seem to think that was possible.

They walked on a little ways, and here, the water was clearer, and it was easier to see the fish and crawling things that swam in the pools. For one brief moment, Frodo thought that he might have seen something else, but he looked closer. It was a fair, Elvish face, floating in the water, pale and noble, as if in a dreaming sleep. Frodo leaned over to look more closely at it. Weeds tangled in its silver hair, and it was hard to say if the Elf was really dead. But Frodo felt a strange sort of attraction to it, as if a magnet had been struck within him. He leaned over further.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam turned in time to see Frodo leaning over a bit too far. "Mr. Frodo!"

Frodo did not hear Sam. Closer he leaned, and then, all of a sudden, the face at which he was looking opened its eyes. Frodo gasped and tried to pull back, but he had leaned too far. He tumbled head-first into the water with the body. Down in there, with the weeds, he could see the dead swirling around him, their decomposing faces leering in grins of death. Fleshless hands reached out to pull Frodo down deeper, and then, suddenly, real hands grasped the hobbit by his cloak, and Gollum hauled him up onto the dry land. He glared at his master, scolding him like a child of five.

"Silly!" he chided. "Don't look at the lights!"

"Gollum?" Frodo asked. "What…?" But Gollum was already off and running. Frodo had no choice but to accept Sam's offered hand and keep going.

That night, as Sam slept, Frodo turned over in his sleep to look at the Ring. It was so beautiful and shiny, with such a perfect hue of gold. The hobbit never really bothered to touch it or look at it so closely before. But now it seemed as if he were drawn to it, as much as he really didn't want to even be close to it.

_Oh, bullshit. Accept the fact that you're losing control of the upstairs, Frodo_.

He jumped, like a youngster caught doing something naughty. Of course, Adelaide would say something like that.

_Dearest Adelaide, pet, you are one for accepting the reality of life. If only it were a dream as we'd plan it. _

_Dreams are nice, but they are only that—dreams. They end sooner or later. Remember that, honey…sooner or later, the dream ends._

He smiled. The young woman's voice had suddenly turned into Gandalf's wise, soothing tone. It was as if the wizard spoke to them both. Then Adelaide's voice returned, and this time it seemed stronger.

_What is the line between fantasy and reality? Your reality is my fantasy…or is the fantasy a reality, either way? _

She was a fresh image to his brain, a new sort of web to unravel and explore again. Memories surfaced like apples in a water-barrel. He had only to lean down and pick one up with his teeth. No easy trick, that! He snatched blindly. The feel of her skin as clothes simply melted away; the smell of her hair after a hay-ride; the sound of her crazy laughter as she played with the other lasses; the sight of her eyes glowing in the candlelight, when she reached out, touched him, and drew him towards the bedroom for an evening of cuddling.

_I can't understand why I'm so in love with you. God did this on purpose—setting me up with a guy so polar-opposite of me that he even needs a stool and a couple of phone books to kiss me properly! _

_Do you regret me, lass? _

_I couldn't regret you. You may have your damned quirks, but then, who doesn't? I probably annoy you when I talk about the New England sports teams. You couldn't play football to save your life._

_Couldn't I!_ Frodo suddenly grinned. _Your darling sweetheart who can't play football is on his way to Mordor for you, honey. Let's see those athletes tackle that!_

He could almost hear her response and laughter. _Don't think that I don't give you credit, babe. Like Gandalf says, there's more to hobbits than meets the eye._

"So bright! So beautiful! My precious."

Frodo was startled out of his reverie by Gollum's hissing, nasty voice. The creature squatted a few feet away, pretending to stroke and adore the Ring. It was as if he knew what was in Frodo's head…the hobbit looked down and realized that he himself was caressing the Ring in an unnatural way, as if it was not a piece of gold but a curled lock of his lover's hair. How could he dare confuse the two. Frodo blushed with shame.

"Master should be sleeping. Master should be resting. Master needs his strength," said Gollum, sulkily.

Frodo got up and crawled over to Gollum. "Who are you?" he asked. Why not ask it? He felt a keen desire to know and understand this creature that was kin to him through possession of the Ring. Their minds were almost one.

"_Cold be heart and hand and bone_," recited Gollum, turning away and looking pouty.

"What are you?" prodded Frodo.

"_In trembling fear when far from home_," sulked Gollum.

"Gandalf told me about you. He said you were one of the River folk."

"_Can you not see what lies ahead_—"

"He said your life was a sad story."

"—_when_ _sun has failed and moon is dead_!"

"You weren't that different from a hobbit, were you," prodded Frodo. "_Smeagol_." He put emphasis on the last word, or name, rather. Gollum stopped talking. He looked at Frodo, and for a moment, his eyes did not hold any malice. His gaze was almost sad.

"Wha—what did you call me?"

Frodo waited, patiently. "That was your name once, long ago," he said softly.

"My name…my name! Smeagol…" Gollum started to smile, a faint smile that fluttered over his features, making him considerably nicer-looking.

"Smeagol…Smeagol! We, I had forgotten. I used to be called that. That was my name."

Considering that Gollum had used "I" instead of his usual plural noun was enough to tell Frodo that he had done well indeed. He started to make a reply when suddenly, a foul and vicious shriek rose in the air. A shadow covered the land. Frodo looked up and gasped. It was a Nazgul.

Once before, the men in black had been mounted on horses. Now they were riding what Adelaide might call "Eragon meets The Dark Side of the Force." The beast had a gigantic wingspan, spines along its back, and razor-sharp teeth. It's scream was like nails on a chalkboard. Frodo cried out and covered his ears, but Gollum gave a wretched cry and tried to pull Frodo back to where Sam was, underneath some bushes, out of sight. Sam had woken up.

Frodo gasped and clutched his shoulder. It was burning with an unusual pain. He remembered the Nazgul which had stabbed him in Weathertop so long ago…and then he remembered the pain, the knife, the wound, and the dark shadows that had surrounded him…he gasped audibly in pain. Sam and Gollum scrambled over and began to pull on him, pulling him back underneath the bushes.

Above their heads the fell beast of Mordor circled, crying out and looking over the wasted land and swampy turf. The rider upon its back continued to sniff, but could see and smell nothing. Below him, two hobbits and one ex-hobbit curled hidden in the shrubbery.

"I thought they were dead," muttered Sam.

"No!" hissed Gollum. "You cannot kill them. They are looking for it, looking for the precious! The precious is their master. They hears it."

Frodo gasped again, and his hand went to his bosom for the Ring. It was at that moment that two slim white hands, though invisible, took Sam's hands, though he could not feel them, and placed them on Frodo's, so that he would not be tempted. Sam held on tight. "Mr. Frodo, please!"

"It's Weathertop, Sam," gasped Frodo. "I can feel it. It hurts!"

Poor Sam didn't know what to do. But then Frodo relaxed, and his face was flooded with color again. The Nazgul flew away.

"Come, sillies!" hissed Gollum, not Smeagol anymore. "Come! Wraiths are searching. Mustn't let them have the precious! Come! Make haste!"

Meanwhile, in Rohan, Eowyn pressed herself against a pillar to avoid Grima, who passed unnoticing. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she swallowed, breathing heavily. She had narrowly escaped another confrontation, which were growing worse and worse as time went on. Not long ago, the wicked counselor had attempted rape with the help of his gag-me-with-a-goat cronies. Eowyn had only managed to wriggle out of that situation with the help of Hama the doorwarden, still loyal to Theoden and Eomer, and no friend to Wormtongue in the least.

But there was no comfort. There was no peace. Eowyn continued to wait.

"Alright, I've had just about enough of this," said Adelaide, as they walked through Fangorn. "If you don't shut up about the trees, Elf-boy, I'll knock your head off."

"A pretty present it would make, my lady," teased Legolas. "Would you like it served on a golden platter or a silver one?"

"Um…how about I throw it in a ditch?"

If Adelaide hadn't been so annoyed by the Elf's ravings about Fangorn, she might have enjoyed exploring it more. The trees, clumped so closely together, were twisted with age, and seemed every tree-climber's perfect dream. Fangorn was full of life and mystery, and Adelaide could have wondered about it just fine without Legolas' ramblings.

They walked further on, and suddenly Gimli took something wet and shiny off a bush and tasted it. He spat it out. "Orc blood!" he grumbled.

"And there's the orc!" Adelaide pointed through the bushes to a small clearing. There, on the ground, was an orc—or, at least, what was left of him. Flies settled on his squashed carcass. A horrid stench lingered in the stale air.

"Oh yummy," Adelaide commented weakly. Hobbit footprints lay all around the dead orc, enough to prove that Merry and Pippin were possibly safe, and their attacker had been killed. But what had done it? "That's absolutely disgusting. Well, he's out of the way. I guess the hobbits are safe now."

"Well, you ought to know!" Gimli huffed. "You're the one with all the information, Addy."

"I dunno. I sometimes feel that with all the stuff that happens, I often forget how the story goes. I know where they are. But I can't say where."

"You might have spared us the trek," Aragorn pointed out.

"And ruin the story? Don't be so damn lazy."

Gimli hoisted his axe. He was a dwarf, and dwarves are not fond of trees. What's more, he had heard of Fangorn more than Adelaide had, and it was unnerving him. Legolas' talk had put him on his guard. "Humph!" he said. "More than likely, it was another orc that killed him!"

"I do not think so," said Aragorn softly. He bent down around the orc. "There are strange footprints."

"What are you talking about?" asked Adelaide, puzzled.

"Look here, maid. Around the orc. He seems to be in some sort of depression, as a footprint."

"So you're saying someone stepped on him? Easy said, easy done; all we have to do is look for Bigfoot."

"Do not jest!" Aragorn said sternly. "These are not the prints of a normal foot. They are like…like…like nothing I have ever seen," he finished lamely. Adelaide rolled her eyes and bent down to try and see what Aragorn was seeing. Legolas, meanwhile, had been gazing at the forest in absolute adoration. As an Elf, he could feel and hear the sounds and the life of nature around him, and he felt it here as well as in his home.

"This forest is old," he commented. "Very old. So old that I feel young again, as I have not felt since I journeyed with you children."

"Thanks a lot," said Adelaide. "Give us a hand here, Elf-boy."

"It is full of memory and anger," the Elf remarked. "I wonder if the orcs have had anything to do with their grief."

"Legolas! Get your…aw, come on, anyway!"

Legolas turned to her. "Do you feel it?" he asked, excitedly. "I can…there is life here, even if you cannot see it."

Gimli shifted his weapon. "Uh, how do we know this is safe?" he asked.

Adelaide sat back on her haunches. "If I hear another word about enchanted, magical, living, feeling, seeing, and safety in this forest, I am going to hurt someone," she snapped. "We have hobbits to find and you two are going wacky over a stupid forest!"

"Adelaide!" cried Legolas, shocked. "Do not say such things. It is not right, and you shall hurt the trees."

"I'M NOT A FUCKING TREE-HUGGER!" Adelaide snapped. "TREES DON'T HAVE EMOTIONAL LIVES, OKAY?"

Suddenly, all around them, there was a low moaning and groaning noise, like twigs creaking, leaves crunching, and boughs bending, as if an old person was getting up to stretch weary limbs. There was no wind, and yet the leaves and boughs shook. Adelaide jumped, and, without knowing it, put her arms around Legolas in her nervousness.

"What was that?" she cried. Gimli had his axe up and ready. But Aragorn motioned to him.

"Gimli! Lower your axe!"

"Hm? What?"

"Put that thing down!" cried Adelaide. Legolas could not help smiling, not only because of her fear, but because her arms were delightfully gentle and smooth against his body.

"So, trees are not emotional?" he teased her. Then he turned to Gimli. "The trees are speaking to each other. They have feelings, my friend. The Elves began it, waking the trees up, and teaching them to speak. And you, maid, look up. You needn't be frightened."

"Who's frightened?' asked Adelaide, jerking away from the Elf, and turning red. "I'm not. They're only trees, aren't they? But hang it all, why didn't you say something before?"

"Didn't he?" asked Aragorn, smiling. "Poor Adelaide. I think we ought to send her home; she's had enough of Middle Earth."

"I have _not_!" She glared at the Elf, who was chuckling. "Shut it, Elf-boy!"

"I am sorry, little one," said Legolas, chuckling. "But you do make me laugh."

"Hardy-har-fucking-har! I'm glad I amuse you!"

"Will you two stop?" asked Aragorn crossly.

Gimli looked around, feeling grumpy. "Talking trees? What do trees have to talk about? Except for the consistency of squirrel droppings?"

There was silence all around. Suddenly, Legolas ran into a clearing, and halted, seeming to sniff the air and take in all that was living. His keen eyes were sharp, and his whole body was rigid. "_Aragorn, nad no ennas_!"

Aragorn came on and touched Legolas' shoulder.

"_Man cenich_?" he asked, in Elvish. "What do you see?"

"The white wizard approaches," murmured Legolas, his whole frame quaking. Aragorn shifted his eyes. He could suddenly feel a presence behind them, as did Legolas. Gimli came up next to them, and so did Adelaide. The men (or male company, at least) laid hands upon their weapons. Sauruman was not a welcome visitor for them. The whole air was tense, and they did not breathe. Adelaide was the only one who knew what the heck was going on.

"Do not let him speak," said Aragorn. "He will put a spell on us."

"Er, I might mention that—" Adelaide tried to say something, but Aragorn hushed her.

"We must be quick," he said.

"Aragorn, I—"

Again, he hushed her. He gripped his sword. Legolas bent his bow. Gimli fingered his axe. Adelaide rolled her eyes. They weren't listening to her. All was tense. All was quiet.

Suddenly, all three males turned and brandished their weapons. Upon a rock was a shining white person, backed by the rays of the creeping sun and brilliantly adorned in white. A staff he held also, of white, and though they could not see his face, he seemed to be like Sauruman in every way. Yet his powers were thorough. Gimli's axe dropped out of his hands. Legolas shot and missed; his arrow flew flaming into the sky, and never fell. Aragorn's sword burned in his hand, causing him to drop it. Adelaide only watched. She was enchanted, suddenly, by this display of power. Only she knew who it was. It was a very familiar figure. She put up a hand to block the light. The woods lit up with it.

"Well-met, my friends!" said a voice, akin to Sauruman's. "You are looking for someone. Or two, if I may say so. Yes, you are tracking hobbits."

"Sauruman!" cried Aragorn. "Where are they? What have you done with them?"

"They passed here not long ago," said the figure. "They met someone they…did not expect to meet."

A hushed tension stole over everyone. Adelaide only stared. The figure was remarkably like Sauruman. She hoped she was not mistaking in thinking that it was—

"Who are you?" cried Aragorn. "Show yourself!"

The figure suddenly dimmed, and came out of the light. And there, looking remarkably clean and well-pressed, was Gandalf. He did not have on his gray robes anymore, nor was his hair very dirty or untidy. All of him was white now: his hair, his clothing, his staff, and his beard. There was a familiar twinkle in his eyes, though they looked older, and sadder. The lines had somewhat increased in his face, but he looked stronger, and yet weaker, powerful, and yet insignificant, beautiful, and yet old. Adelaide didn't know how to describe it. It was all so real, just like his "death" had been. But she had known, all the time. But it was great to have the good old Gandalf back again.

"It cannot be," said Aragorn. Legolas murmured something, and then knelt.

"Forgive me. I mistook you for Sauruman," he said humbly. The wizard only gave them kind glances.

"I _am_ Sauruman!" he said gently. "Or rather Sauruman as he should have been."

"But you fell," stammered Aragorn. Then he turned to Adelaide, who was only now beginning to shake with laughter. "You knew!" he cried, not knowing whether to be amused, angry, or relieved. "You knew, Addy, and all this time, you said nothing!"

"Well, how on earth could she?" Gandalf defended the girl. "Would you have even believed her?"

"That's right!" Gimli added. "Gandalf fell down the chasm!"

The wizard halted, and looked surprised.

"Gandalf? Gandalf? Hum. Yes…yes, I remember. I was Gandalf. That was the name. They called me that." Aragorn nodded eagerly. "Hum! Gandalf the Gray. I am Gandalf the White! Well, I am not surprised. You may still call me Gandalf if you like. And has this young lady been on her best behavior? I heard she charmed a few hearts in Lothlorien."

"Hey, you snoop," Adelaide turned red and shuffled her feet. "It was only Haldir."

"_Only Haldir_? My dear girl, he was ready to sail to the moon for you."

"Aw, go on. Tell us about the Balrog deal."

"Name him not!" cried Gandalf, and then hesitated. "Hum! Yes. A long time I fell. I fought him sword to sword. Through fire and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought him, the Balrog of Morgoth, until at last I smote him, threw him down, and dashed his ruins upon the mountainside. Then I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as a life-age on earth. The life went out of me, and I felt darkness surrounding me. Then I felt life in me again. I have been sent back for a time, to complete my work here But it was the end."

"So…what now?" Adelaide couldn't help asking.

"Our stage of the quest is over, and a new one begins," Gandalf said. "War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Endoras with all our speed."

"We hear it goes ill with the king," said Aragorn.

"Edoras?" grumped Gimli. "That is no short distance!"

"Dude, like, I'm not supposed to be going there," Adelaide remarked.

"Well you are now," Gandalf shot back.

"But there's a warrant for instant death on my noodle! I'd like to keep it intact for years to come, thanks!"

"And where are the hobbits?" asked Legolas, concern mirroring in his fair face.

"Yes! That's what we chiefly need to know," growled Gimli. "If they're in the hands of this Treebeard, as you say, then we have run all this way for nothing, except to find that the hobbits have run into this dank, smelly, dark, miserable, tree-infested—"

At that moment, there was a low growl from the trees, a moaning and groaning that could have been translated as anger. Gimli stopped mid-sentence.

"I mean! This charming…charming…charming forest…er…"

"It was no mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn Forest," Gandalf said slyly. "A great power has been sleeping here all these long years. The coming of Merry and Pippin has been like a few rocks that cause an avalanche."

"One things hasn't changed, my friend," Aragorn said, patting the wizard fondly on the shoulder. "You still speak in riddles."

Gandalf smiled.

"The trees are about to wake up…and find that they are strong."

"Wake up?" Gimli huffed. 'Strong? Oh…oh, that's good."

Adelaide was thoroughly amused.

"So stop your fretting, master dwarf," Gandalf began to walk swiftly to the edge of the forest. "Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are much safer than you are about to be!"

The woods about them groaned as Gimli waddled after the group, casting hesitant glances about him.

"This new Gandalf is grumpier than the old one," he muttered.


	5. The Exorcism of Theoden, King

Chapter 5

The Exorcism of Theoden King

**Alright, I apologize for the lateness of the story...I've been on a "Cadfael" craze for a bit, and, come to think of it, I'm still on it, and moving slowly back into a "Moby Dick" craze. But sometimes I write better when I'm NOT on a craze...so we'll see what happens. **

What remained of the Fellowship broke out into the sunshine from Fangorn, and Gandalf began to whistle a strange tune.

"What's he doing?" asked Adelaide, curiously.

"I'm not sure," Aragorn replied.

Gandalf continued to whistle. Suddenly, from far away, came the nickering of a horse. Gandalf smiled. Coming over the hill was the most beautiful horse Adelaide had ever laid eyes on. Its very coat was white, and sparkled like silver in the sun.

"Hey, isn't that Shadowfax?" she asked, as it trotted up to Gandalf and laid its proud head in the wizard's hands. Gandalf stroked it, and Legolas smiled.

"That is one of the Meras, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell," he said softly.

"How'd you get Teddy's horse?" Adelaide asked. Gandalf smiled.

"I…borrowed it from him," he said. "He was well on his way to being crazed, you know, ever since Grima came, and so he told me to have any horse I chose and ride swiftly from the land. So I did."

Adelaide burst out laughing. "Gandalf, I forgot what a joker you are," she said. "That's too good. Well, he didn't say you couldn't have him, did he? However. We now have Arod, Hasupfel, and Shadowfax. There's three horses, but only five people. Who's going to ride with whom?"

"Gimli will ride with Aragorn," said Gandalf. "Shadowfax will not permit another rider besides myself. Don't give me that look. I know you're not exactly on best-friend terms with our Elf, but it's about time you started giving him a chance. Now get up on that horse."

Adelaide had no choice. Gandalf's word was final, and she mounted Arod behind Legolas, who quietly asked her to hold on tightly. He himself was delighted with the proposition of riding with the girl he loved, even if she was forced into it. He'd not push his luck.

"So, my lady!" said Legolas as they rode. "Keep me awake, as we ride these plains. What do you know of Rohan? Will you not tell me about it?"

"What's there to tell?" muttered Adelaide. "I lived there once, and had fun. Not much else. What do you want me to say?"

"Forgive me, my lady. I was only curious."

"Yeah, well, you need to quit being so curious because you're annoying the hell out of me."

"Am I? Is there fault with harmless inquisition? I sense that you wish to ride in stony silence, when the time might be better served. Why do you push me back?"

"Because, Elf-boy, you're an annoying prick who needs to get a life and go chase after the females of your species."

"My name, lady, is Legolas. Please use it."

"Yeah, well, you never use my name, so I'm entitled to my American rights of free speech, thanks. Besides, you never listen to me anyway when I try to talk to you. Your head is off somewhere around cloud-9."

"Well, I don't suppose it should be anywhere else, when one is around you. And I have no desire to 'chase after' the females of my species, as you so crudely put it. I have fallen in love with you, maid."

"So! The truth comes out!" Adelaide was satisfied at last. "Love, huh? What the fuck would you know about love, if this is your first time?"

"Probably just as much as you, if the Ringbearer is your first," Legolas shot back.

"He's not my first," Adelaide snapped. "And you have no business judging me like that. Frodo and I have lived together for years, even before we started dating. You and I met once and have been traveling together for less than a year. You can't possibly be in love with me. Infatuated, maybe, but not in love. Just cool your jets, okay?"

Legolas turned slightly and gave her a look which booked no argument and clearly stated that he had no intention of "cooling his jets." His revelation to Adelaide had not come as a complete surprise, and Adelaide was shocked to discover that she was not as angry about it as she ought to have been. Was he just teasing her? Why did he look at her like that?

"So why _did_ your father imprison the dwarves?" She cleared her throat, trying to change the subject. "I like dwarves. I read that part in the story and felt sorry for them. And I'm not going to leave you alone until you give me a good reason."

"Thorin would give no suitable account for his conduct," said Legolas. "He wandered our realm without leave, would not say why, and was rude to my father in being stubbornly silent. Can you not know why, then, my father imprisoned him?"

"No. How was he supposed to know it was YOUR realm? Did you guys have signs up, or something?"

"No, but—"

"And what's your idea of a credible account, anyway? When I stumbled into Lothlorien, I gave reasons for why I was there, and nobody believed Jack-shit about it."

Legolas sighed again. "Lady, will you curb your tongue when with me? It does not please me to talk to you when insults and rude words come rolling off your tongue. There are other ways in which such a fine instrument may be employed."

"Yes, well, you are not the employer, buddy. So, where were you during all the commotion, anyway? Hiding behind the curtains?"

Legolas laughed so hard that Adelaide was afraid he would hit her in the nose with those weapons on his back. "Lady, lady, lady, I am amused," he chuckled, smiling like the sun. "Where was I? I was by my father's side when he gave the orders for the dwarves, and I was also at the feast at which the dwarves escaped. I too, was at the battle."

"How come J.R.R. Tolkien never mentioned you, I wonder."

"Does he say anything of me at all?"

"He mentions you in one of the Books of Lost Tales…gives a very avid description of you."

"How amusing," Legolas pondered. "And how interesting, that I should be the creation of a mortal man in a realm outside of this one! But I feel real enough. When you speak of us, it's as if you are looking down at us, from a metaphysical height."

"Well, technically, I am."

"And do you play with us in your mind's eye, my lady?"

"In my mind's eye," Adelaide muttered under her breath. "That sounds very…familiar. Like…like it's a part of the whole situation I'm in. What's the mind's eye?"

"It is the way your mind sees things. You mortals call it the imagination. Is that not what brought you here in the first place?"

Adelaide was quiet, but her brain was working so fast that Legolas could almost hear her thoughts. Then, she voiced herself out loud.

"Somehow," she announced. "I'm beginning to understand a lot more than I did before."

_She recalled a time when she'd been out digging in her little garden on the side of Bag End and he'd come up behind her thoughtfully, watching her from behind. While she was aware of his presence, she was hardly aware of his eyes that watched her move back and forth as she rooted around in the fresh earth, the smell of flowers, strawberries, fresh dirt and weeds clinging to her fingers and sweat trickling down her forehead. She was only fully aware of him when she turned, like some sort of nymph, one white leg extended in her awkward pose, breast heaving as she glanced up at him in complete agony._

"_Got any water?" she panted. He didn't answer for some time, and when she asked again, it was as if he was coming out of a dream._

"_What? Oh...oh, yes, yes...let me get you some."_

_He came back with the water and sat down next to her as she drank gratefully, and he picked up her dirt-stained hand, inspecting it carefully._

"_You've been bruised."_

"_I scraped it on a rock."_

"_Shall I wash and bandage it?"_

"_Well, I'm capable of doing it myself. Besides, I'm not finished yet. I'm okay."_

_He looked into her eyes with love and compassion. "I believe you," he said softly. "But come in now and do it. That could become infected. The garden can wait. Did you not want to go out tonight?"_

"_Out? Out, where?"_

"_There's this place I've been meaning to show you…a small spot near the forest. There's a lovely little glade where the moon shines down and makes everything shine…"_

_His voice trailed off. No use babbling about moon and stars and secretive glades when she was all sunny, hot, and bothered to boot! His mouth went dry; his head swam—and not because of the heat. She saw—and grinned—and then pounced like a tiger. She propelled him backwards onto the ground, straddling him triumphantly and then leaning down to press her sweaty lips against his soft, cool ones. Her heart was pounding. She was in a mood, that silly girl! He loved to take her for moonlit walks and quiet picnics—which never failed to result in heavy bouts of making out—but sometimes the animal inside them both said, "the hell with romantics." _

_Her hand was stretching down to his belt…and quickly working at the fastenings, while his hands slipped up to undo the lacings of her bodice. She moved back so he could sit up, and his mouth was fastened to one breast when she suddenly cried out sharply. _

"_Holy shit, we're in plain view of the road!"_

_Not good. _

_Adelaide clasped her clothing back to her body, and Frodo jumped up, dragging her with him. He was hard as a rock, and wasn't about to let his lover's observation get in the way of his desire. He pulled her quickly back into Bag End, pulled her down right there on the Welcome mat, and she drew him fondly into a very warm, sweaty embrace. He didn't care. His tongue flicked over one pert nipple, slid beneath the curve of her breast, and trailed upward to ravish the sensitive spot below her ear and behind her jaw. Her hands shoved his trousers off his body, and grasped his member firmly. He heard her gasp something very naughty and almost inaudible. He didn't care. Let her be a bad girl. He wanted to be the disciplinarian. _

_She didn't know it was so possible for a human to be so animalistic and so divine at the same time. What is man, that he should feel such an insane desire for sexual pleasure, and yet feel, at the same time, such a soaring of both soul and body? _

"O rowan mine, I saw you shine upon a summer's day, your rind so bright, your leaves so light, your voice so cool and soft; upon your head how golden-red the crown you bore aloft! Such a beautiful verse."

Treebeard was carefully and very slowly punctuating his rhyme about female trees with great emphasis, taking care to let the words breathe on their own. The poem had been going for at least an hour now, and the droll tone made both Pippin and Merry stretch and yawn. The two hobbits, now totally at ease with their leafy King Kong friend, were riding upon his shoulders (or was that his back, neck, or head?), while the Ent talked on and on in his gravely, un-hasty voice. The wind was fair upon their faces, and now they were feeling a bit sleepy from all their adventures with orcs and riders and wizards and trees that walked and talked. And Treebeard kept right on talking.

"Is it much further?" asked Merry. Pippin yawned. Treebeard shook his leafy head in a stretch.

"_Barum_, don't be hasty. You might call it far, perhaps. My home lies deep near the roots of the forest. I told Gandalf I would keep you safe. And safe is where I'll keep you," said Treebeard. "Hm. I believe you'll enjoy this next one. It's one of my own compositions."

Both hobbits stifled their groans as Treebeard began to sing in a low grumbling voice, but with memory and time laced into it. He seemed to like it very much.

_When Summer lies upon the world_

_And in a noon of gold_

_Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves_

_The dreams of trees unfold;_

_When woodland halls are green and cool_

_And wind is in the West,_

_Come back to me! Come back and say_

_My land is best!_

That was only a part of it. But it was the last stanza that the hobbits heard, for, overcome by weariness and hunger, they had fallen asleep upon the boughs of Treebeard. The Ent waited for a bit of praise, and then looked up, hearing nothing. His eyes rested upon the sleeping hobbits, and he rumbled contentedly deep in his throat.

When at last they had reached his home, Treebeard laid the little hobbits to rest on the floor of a woodland glade.

"Sleep, little Shirelings," he said gently. "Heed no nightly noise! I am going now to get a drink of water. I will return at daybreak! Hoom, hum…I was forgetting, singing that song put me in mind of old times; almost thought I was talking to young Entings. I like your voices…nice little voices, they reminded me of something I cannot remember…" He stood up tall and straight, brows furrowing. "I have business in the forest. There are many to call; many who must come. A shadow lies upon Fangorn. The withering of old forests is drawing near."

Treebeard lumbered off into the darkness of the forest.

Gandalf and the others stopped long enough on their trip to Rohan in order to sleep, for the moon had come out, and now everything was very quiet. They chose a small space near to a forest, where the grass grew rather tall, and here they laid out mats for themselves and covered themselves with their cloaks and blankets. Gimli was asleep in two seconds. Legolas laid himself down and folded his hands over his breast, blending living night and dreams, as is the Elvish way with sleep. A little apart from them slept Adelaide, near to the side of Aragorn, where he sat and smoked his pipe. Several times did he lean over to brush a stray strand of hair from her face or cover her up more snugly. Perhaps, he told himself, she was dreaming of Frodo and Sam, or of Rohan and the life she had there before the warrant had come for her arrest.

Gandalf stood beside him. "Has she officially called you 'daddy' yet?"

"What?"

"Never mind. It is her term, I think, for a father."

"Ah, well, I don't think she sees me as that quite yet. It is odd, though. I feel as though I AM her father. I am constantly worrying over her, scolding her, correcting her, or praising her. I feel protective, as an elder brother might, but I don't see her in that light. I love her, for all her faults and failings. I must be going senile."

"Humph. If you're going senile, what does that make an old man like me?"

"It grows harder to guard her. She won't sit still for a minute."

"And she's not likely to. It's getting harder for her to control her tongue. But I only remind you to keep in mind what hangs in the balance, and all in the hands of her whom you love. The veiling shadow that glowers in the East takes shape. Sauron will suffer no rival. From the summit of Barad-Dur, his eye watches. But he is not so mighty yet that he is above fear. Doubt ever gnaws at him. The rumor has reached him. The heir of Numenor still lives. Sauron fears you, Aragorn. He fears what you may become." Gandalf nodded at Adelaide and lowered his voice considerably. "That is why we must try very hard to protect her. If she fell into the wrong hands, I worry that a considerable amount of torture may serve to loosen her tongue, if not a heavy threat against her loved ones."

Aragorn thought for a moment. "Do you know of her illness?"

Gandalf snorted. "I knew she was ill the moment I met her. It's a result of what she's doing with her mind. I've seen such things before. Mystics are often very ill. But Adelaide's problem is that she won't ever admit such a helpless state of mind and body. She would rather live in a dream-world where she can do anything. Unfortunately, she can't."

"And we need to keep her from doing something stupid," Aragorn sighed wearily.

"Of course. Nevertheless, she is a smart lass. She will come with us and help us. You must look after her, Aragorn, and make sure that she does not get herself into unnecessary pickles. The least slip will cause a downfall. Sauron will strike hard and fast to the world of men. He will use his puppet Sauruman to destroy Rohan. War is coming. Rohan must defend itself, and therin lies our first challenge, for Rohan is weak, and ready to fall. The king's mind is enslaved; it's under some device of Sauruman's. His hold over King Theoden is now very strong. Sauruman and Sauron are tightening the noose! But for all their cunning, we have one advantage."

"And what is that?"

"The Ring remains hidden," said Gandalf. "And that we should seek to destroy it has not yet entered their darkest dreams. And so the weapon of the Enemy is moving towards Mordor, in the hands of a hobbit; each day brings it closer to the fires of Mt. Doom. We must trust in Frodo now. Everything depends on speed and the secrecy of his quest."

Aragorn looked troubled. Gandalf put an arm around his shoulders. "Do not repent your decision to leave him. Frodo must finish this task alone."

"He is not alone," said Aragorn. "Sam went with him."

Gandalf's eyebrows raised. "Did he? Did he indeed?" he gave a sigh. "Good! Very good."

"Hey," said a sleepy voice. "Pipe down; how's a girl to get her beauty sleep if you keep talking about the threat of Mordor? Go to sleep, while we can still get it."

Aragorn patted Adelaide's head. "We're dropping off now, Adelaide. How much did you hear?"

"Came in at the part where you thought you were going senile."

In the gloom of the large room, Eowyn bent over her cousin, wounded desperately from an orc battle. His wound was mortal, and though he had been taken care of with kindliness and tenderness, there was not enough to heal the wound, and Theodred was now dead. Eowyn was sobbing. Her beautiful golden hair streamed over her shoulders as her tears fell like rain from her once-happy eyes, and marked tenderly the love of her heart upon her cousin. He lay as cold and still as stone, but not a word did he speak. He was past all hope.

And, for all that, life would have been peachy if Grima hadn't interrupted the very private moment.

Upon peering into the doorway, the king's loathsome councilor saw the love of his life bending over Theodred, weeping quietly.

The room gave little light, and it was made even more terrible by the fact that the ominous shape and shadow of Grima Wormtongue defiled it. He pretended pity, for there might still be hope left to woo the woman of his choice. But what on earth was he thinking? Men of his age (and looks) were bound to get scorned. Eowyn had scorned him so many times (and given him so many hints) that it was impossible to count them. He just couldn't take a hint (and obviously he never looked in a mirror).

"Oh," he stammered, trying (and failing) to look sad. "He—he must have died during the night. What a pity!"

He came and sat down on the bed next to Eowyn. She was seething with rage, though she did not show it. Grima was going to try something, she just knew it! She swallowed, trying to keep from jumping on the idiot and beating the shit out of him. That was kind of useless.

"I understand that his passing is hard to accept, especially now that your brother has deserted you," he went on (still not taking a hint). "It also leaves you without a relative. Pity."

Eowyn could not contain herself. "Leave me alone, snake!" she spat, getting up and moving off. And yet his words froze her; chilled her; kept her rooted where she was, at the doorway.

"But you are alone!" Cold. Sneering. Supposedly wise. "And where will you turn, my lady, when you find that the walls of your bower close in upon you? Who knows who you have spoken to in the darkness A hutch to trammel some wild thing?" He moved to where she was. Stood in front of her. Lifted a cold, clammy hand. Touched her cheek; he stroked her face. "So cold. So fair. Like a morning dawn not yet ripened into day. Poor thing!"

Eowyn did not like being called a "poor thing," especially by Grima Wormtongue. She was disgusted with him. But Eowyn was also a little bit more self-controlled, which was just as well.

"Your words are poison," she spat, and ripped herself away from his odor and stalked out of the room, leaving him to wallow in his unfortunate idiocy and shame. If he had any, that is. Eowyn burst out crying again, and tore herself from the room. Her world was spinning; it was being sent topsy-turvy, and she could not think straight anymore. She ran through the court, past her dearest uncle, the king, and flew out onto the terrace, where she stood, silent, tall, proud, and fair. The wind blew her hair back in the breeze, and her dress fluttered. From far away, she could see visitors coming to the gate of Rohan; she could see that there were five of them. Were there any maidens? Eowyn searched as far as she could, and then lost them over the hill. But she had caught sight of a man, a man seemingly more handsome than any other, proud, fair, and noble indeed. And he had caught sight of her, fair maiden of Rohan, shapely as a lily, and deadly as a sword wrought by Elves, for she was a shieldmaiden, a daughter of kings. When he looked again, she was gone.

"Adelaide," remarked Aragorn, turning in his saddle to a very worn-out girl. "Did you see her just now?"

Adelaide yawned. "Wha…hoo?"

"That woman standing upon the terrace. Did you see her?"

"No. What did she look like?"

Aragorn paused. "She was most beautiful," he said. "She reminded me of you, almost. But she had a river of golden hair, and she seemed touched by frost."

"Oh! Hey! That sounds like Eowyn!" Adelaide perked up at once. "Come on, let's go! I have to see her and make sure that some ugly bastard hasn't—"

"Adelaide," Gandalf said firmly. "You will get a hold of yourself this instant. This is no time for emotional outbursts. I don't care what has happened to your loved ones here; don't you dare start acting heroic! I will have to deal with enough without your insane methods."

"Now hold on a minute," protested Adelaide. "What do you mean? I want to go in there and knock a few particular heads off. Why can't we just do that?"

"Adelaide, you've grown careless, my dear," said Gandalf dryly. "If we were to do that, why, I don't think we'd be welcome in Rohan any more."

"I'm not welcome here anyway, so who cares?"

"I do! Blood must not be spilled here. Do you hear me? And whatever you do—_do not use your mind for any reason_! Do you understand me? We shall not be warmly received. I think that if we all keep our heads, we shall be fine. Only there is to be no bloodshed."

"Can I inflict big, nasty bruises?"

"Adelaide..."

"I'm just kidding!"

They trotted their horses through the gate. It was a tall, wooden gate, and at their feet lay an old banner, torn from ill-use. There was a definite change about the place that Adelaide could tell right away. There was silence all around. The laughter of little ones was not heard. Old people swept their dirt floors, and thatched their houses. There was not a young person in sight. All looked at them (stared really) as they passed, and Gimli muttered, "You'll find more cheer in a graveyard."

Adelaide was inclined to agree. Many people looked upon her as a stranger, though she recognized several people, and she saw a man who had helped her, once, learn to properly mount a horse. He stared at her now as if he did not know her. Behind him, a wife stood, and she did not look a day over forty. Children, dirty and haggled, lagged behind her, with sticky, grubby fingers in their mouths in regular astonishment. Adelaide's face screwed up in pain and astonishment. This wasn't how she'd left Rohan! It had been beautiful, full of life and laughter. Everything had been green, gardens flourished, and the people were not so poor and silent. There had been more of the young, and more of the beautiful. Laughter had filled the air. Adelaide had never seen so much depression. It was as if a huge cloud had settled upon Rohan!

They trotted their horses up to the golden hall of Mesuled. Adelaide had known it once, but it was impossible to tell now what it had been once before. It did not look healthy. It looked as if it could have used Sam Gamgee's gardening skills, and Gimli's dwarf influence on stone.

_I've got to find Eowyn_.

Legolas dismounted a the door, along with Gandalf, Gimli, and Aragorn, and then helped Adelaide down. Gandalf was now wrapped in a gray cloak, to hide his identity. They walked up the steps, and the doors opened. Strong men came out, door wards. And one Adelaide knew very, very well.

"I must ask you to leave your weapons at the door," said Hama. "It is the will of King Theoden."

Legolas removed his arrows, bow, and knives. Gandalf handed over Glamdring. Aragorn handed over his sword, and Gimli, with a sigh, handed over his axe. Adelaide unbuckled her sword and put it in the pile. As she straightened up, one of the guards caught her arm, and a look of solid amazement crossed his face.

"Feodral!"

The guards reached for their weapons, but Hama motioned them back with a wave of his hand.

"We'll have none of that here. This woman is a citizen of Rohan, by order of the king, and by friendship with his majesty's kin."

"This woman," said Gamling, the other guard in charge. "Is also wanted for high treason, and was to be killed. There is a bounty on her head."

"But I just walked into your clutches, so I don't think it would make any sense if you killed me," Adelaide remarked. "I'm back, and if nobody likes it, tough shit."

Hama shook his head. "You should not have come back, lady. Rohan has fallen on evil times, and there's no room for you here. Will you not take your weapons? I will not hinder you, but nor can I defend you."

"Keep the weapons for now," Adelaide grinned sheepishly. "I might accidentally use them on one Grima Wormtongue."

"Actually, I was hoping you might, lady. So, you still remember him?"

"How's Eowyn?" Adelaide changed the subject neatly. "I really want to see her."

"The feeling is mutual." Hama's face softened, and his eyes darkened. "If you see her, you will know what she has been through. You left her, and that was bad. Grima follows her, and that is worse. Eomer was banished, and that was horrible. Now Theodred has died, and that is the worst news of all."

"Theodred?" asked Adelaide. "The king's son?"

"Aye, not an hour ago."

Adelaide was very quiet. She hadn't known Theodred as well as his cousins, but he had been a good friend nonetheless. "Can I see him?"

"I beg that you will, Adelaide. But you'll have to get by Grima, first. He's poisoned the mind of the king, and has his own spies that will do his own gruesome bidding!"

"To speak so of the king's own councilor is treason!" murmured a guard by Hama's side, and Gamling, the other warden, shifted.

"Then we are all traitors here. Who has not spoken with distaste of that odorous man? If my lords are here to deal with him, we thank you most kindly."

"Well, we have not come to bandy words with a witless worm," Gandalf said. "But, as my young friend here might say, we shall definitely rain on his parade."

Hama nodded. "As you wish, my lord. But your staff…I am sorry, but that must be laid aside."

"Hum!" said Gandalf. "My staff?" he leaned against it wearily and smiled gently at Hama. "You would not part an old man from his walking stick, would you?"

"Such an object may have another use besides an old man's support," Hama said dryly. "But in this I judge that you are innocent, and may go forward with all goodwill."

Gandalf leaned upon Legolas' arm, winking at the others, and taking care not to let the guard see it.

In they came to a dimly lit room, marked by tall pillars. The only shaft of light in the room was cast upon an old, shrunken body of a man. It was King Theoden. Adelaide beheld him, and her eyes could not believe what she saw. He was worse off than before; he was ragged, stinking, and unkempt. His eyes wallowed in yellow crust, and his long nails were chipped. His hair streamed over his shoulders like a crusty old spider web, and his eyes were filmed. He did not look like a king.

Adelaide could not help staring. Good Lord, what the hell had happened? She tried desperately to remember the storyline. Why did it keep getting so foggy?

Oh, that's why. Grima was shuffling into the room. He was probably blocking all the memory vibrations!

"My lord…it is Gandalf the Gray. _He is not welcome_," she heard him hiss to his master and lord. She saw Theoden nod. The king was in the hands of that bastard!

"Why…should I welcome you…Gandalf Stormcrow?" King Theoden asked, in a wheezing breath. Adelaide tried to jerk out of her captor's arms. This was too much.

"A just question, my lord," said Grima. "Dark is the hour in which this gray wanderer chooses to return. And with him he has brought four strangers dressed in rags…and the viper herself!" He came around and stared at Adelaide for only a moment. "He has brought back a wanted woman, my lord. Wanted because of her high treason and threats against his majesty's life. Would you keep such a one in your house? Dismiss these fools, and slay the snake who leads them. She has the power to twist minds, my lord, and you know this, well! Was it not she who induced your court to a life of sloth and ease, so that the borders went unprotected, and the wildsmen killed and slaughtered the people in the villages?"

Adelaide was taken aback a moment. She blinked. So, those were the rumors going around.

"Who? Oh, you mean me. Sorry, for a minute I thought you were talking about someone else. I forgot you liked to make long, elaborate speeches about yourself. It's also commonly referred to as bullshit."

She felt Gandalf stiffen at her side, and cringed for a moment before she realized that the wizard was actually chuckling. Grima's eyes flashed.

"On pain of death were you to return."

"There's a warrant for my head, you idiot."

"If that is so," Grima hissed. "Then why have you come back?"

"Uh...maybe because this is a free country, and I wanted to? Nobody's done anything, yet. How come you're not so eager to do it yourself?" Adelaide stared at him, bewildered. Then, she brightened. "I know what this is all about—you're scared of me, aren't you? I came between you and Eowyn, didn't I? And now that I'm back, you're terrified I'll take away all your chances of success. Don't worry. I don't have to worry about that. You're ugly enough without my help—"

Grima lunged forward and struck her across the cheek. Legolas jerked forward, but Aragorn put a warning hand to stop him. This was Adelaide's fight.

"Witch! Sorceress and enemy of deceit!" Grima hissed. "You should never have come to Rohan. You should have stayed in your own world. We never thought much of you here. You only profaned like a man, defied your gender, and brought about despair! You were hated here. It was better that you went, and it would have been even better had you stayed away. My lord is tired. He needs none of your prattling, nor any of your dark words! You are Sauron's daughter, or perhaps his consort? Evil festers within you, lady, and what I would give to have you gone!"

Adelaide reached up and touched the burning of her cheek.

"You can blow all the hot air you want. You're a fucking pain in the ass, and I don't care who hears me. I'll shout it into a microphone if you want! GRIMA WORMTONGUE IS A FUCKING PAIN IN THE FUCKING ASS! So, who's going to slay me for that, eh? Nobody, that's who! 'Cause everybody knows I'm right!"

Grima scowled.

"So be it," he sneered. "But you come at a crucial time, Feodral. Already we hear that the Dark Lord stirs in the East. The armies of Mordor are gathering. And such is the time that you choose to return, and with Gandalf Stromcrow no less! Why should we welcome you, indeed?" he paced back to Gandalf, who was looking very bored. "Lathspell I name you; ill-news, and ill-news is an ill-guest, they say." He laughed harshly.

"Keep quiet!" spat the wizard, looking with flaming eyes into those of his oppressor. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth, if you have nothing better to say. My errand is not to you but the King of the Mark." With that, Gandalf held up his staff before Grima's eyes. At the sight of it, Grima paled, and flinched.

"His staff!" he squirmed. "I _told_ you to take the wizard's staff!"

The room broke out into pandemonium. People dived to protect Grima; Hama and Gamling tried to hold others back; Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli tried to peel the others off Grima; and Adelaide rushed up and missed kicking Grima in the family jewels by two inches. She landed a pretty good wallop on his stomach, though, which caused the disgusting little man to double over in pain. Gimli threw him to the floor.

"I would lay still, if I were you!" he growled.

Gandalf, meanwhile, had moved forward to see Theoden, who was rocking in his seat, alone and unsure. "Too long have you sat in the shadows, my friend," he said. "I release you." And with that, he pointed his hand towards King Theoden and bowed his head, as if casting a spell, or even casting out a spirit. But Theoden sat as still as a stone. All was very quiet. At last, a noise was heard, a sound so horrifying that Adelaide found it hard to believe that it was coming from the old king.

Theoden was laughing, a horrible, gurgling laugh. But it was not his. It seemed that his voice, so strained, was now terribly constricted, as if someone else was controlling his actions, and speaking, and movements…

"You have no power here, Gandalf Stormcrow!" chuckled the voice, evilly. "Gandalf the _Gray_! You are nothing!"

But that did not stop Gandalf. (Since when did anything like that stop Gandalf?)

Eowyn, coming in from the outside, had heard the noise inside, and was now hurrying through the corridors, trying to seek her uncle. She thought she had heard him laugh, and thought too, that something evil had been happening. She was running as fast as she could. Fearing for her uncle, she ran forward, into the great hall, just in time to see Gandalf throw back his old cloak to reveal himself in all his splendor and whiteness. His staff gleamed, and he pointed it at Theoden. As if pulled back violently, the old king was thrust upon his chair, and his voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. Yet it was foreboding and evil, and Eowyn did not like it. The old wizard was hurting her uncle! She ran forward with a gasp, and a strong arm caught her.

Looking up, she fond herself face to face with a handsome man, of a rascally look, but noble features, grim, and yet fair, as of the kings of old. And she felt within him his manly strength, and his kindliness, and she heard his soft voice, "No, my lady!" as if he had known her for so long. What a sweet voice it was, and how beautiful! It seemed to Eowyn that she had first looked upon that which is sweet, after years of going without food. She gazed at him for a moment, and then, in her horror, turned back to the figure upon the seat.

"If I go," snarled Sauruman's voice, "Then Theoden dies."

Again, he was thrust violently back.

"You did not kill me, you will not kill him. Leave him, snake!" cried Gandalf. "Go, and return no more!"

"What's he doing?" Adelaide was puzzled. "What the fuck is going on?" She didn't recall this as being part of the book. At the same time, Eowyn looked over, and the two girls' eyes met. But before either of them could do anything, King Theoden gave a heart-wrenching cry and made a final effort to lunge from his chair. Light shone from Gandalf's staff, and the king was thrust backwards once more. He gave a gurgle, and was still, slouched upon his throne.

For a moment, no one moved, except Gandalf, who lowered his staff and leaned on it. And then the strangest and most wonderful thing happened.

Theoden began to change. Slowly at first, but then it was evident. His hair became golden again, his face clean. His nails grew shorter, and his whole face cleared. His body became as of youth again, though still in his face were the lines of nobility and age. And his eyes, once veiled, became clear again, and he breathed in the comfort of a new life. He looked around, as helpless as a newborn child. And then he saw Eowyn. She tore herself from Aragorn and caught Theoden as he slumped forward. She held him, looking into his eyes. He smiled down at her.

"I know your face," he spoke softly. "Eowyn!"

"Breathe the free air again," said Gandalf, smiling brightly. Behind him, Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn were staring as if in a trance.

The old king smiled, and stood. "Dark have been my dreams of late," he said. His hands twitched, and went to his sword hilt, only to find nothing there. Gandalf handed him a sword.

"You would remember your old gripping strength if you had a sword," he said cheerfully. Theoden gripped it.

And then, Theoden looked around him. His eyes settled on a one Grima Wormtongue.

And Grima got the coldest, deadliest, most pissed-off look he had ever been given in his life.


	6. The Girls Are Back in Town

Chapter 6

The Girls Are Back in Town

**I had so much fun with this chapter. Best friends are awesome to have. Again, I apologize if any sort of story timing is off...I really do have no head for math or timing. And...why so incredibly wacky? Eowyn's supposed to be a formal, dignified maiden, right? Well, THAT'S WHAT YOU THINK! Time to let down the hair, relax, kick off the high-heels, and just enjoy girl-time. Why can't they have a little bit of crazy fun? **

Grima was bodily thrown out by the guards, who took no pains to hide their pleasure at the task. A crowd of curious onlookers had gathered before the hall, looking out in astonishment as Grima tumbled roughly down the stone steps, hurt himself, and lay at the bottom, howling and muttering in pain.

"Only ever have I served you!" he snarled to Theoden. But the king was untouched by any pity.

"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" he cried. He raised his sword. "Now die like one!" Grima screamed and covered his face. But the king, though intent, was suddenly held back by another arm; Aragorn held the king back gently, but firmly.

"No, my king," he said. "No more blood must be spilled on his account."

He stretched out his hand to Grima, who did not even hesitate; he spat on the man's hand and bowled through the crowd, a black figure of sniveling fury. "Get out of my way!" he bellowed to the crowd, and as the crowd made room for him, he jumped upon an old horse and rode off out of the gate. Adelaide muttered something, and Aragorn wiped his hand, turning to her in anger.

"How much do you think it would be worth to kill him?" he asked. "How much more blood must be spilled on his account?"

"Oh, stuff a sock in it," said Adelaide. "If we had killed him, everything would be hopping dandy. You're so stupid, Aragorn. I can't understand you."

They all entered the Golden Hall again, as if to get their bearings. The moment Adelaide was somewhat steady on her feet again, Eowyn nearly knocked her over in the biggest hug-tackle ever, half-laughing and half-sobbing in relief. Adelaide hugged her back.

"Adelaide, I knew you'd come back! I knew it, I knew it!"

"I toldja I would. Girl, _look_ at you! You are looking so damn _fine!_"

"Me? Look at yourself, lady! Not a day older, I'll swear by it!"

"Literally!" Adelaide laughed. "OMG, have I got stories for you. You know how I thought I'd lost all my fucking marbles? Well, I got 'em all back in again. It's incredible. Everything's been explained. I know what the hell is going on now!"

Eowyn kissed her on both cheeks. "I knew you would find yourself, Adelaide. Everyone said you would not return. They kept telling me that you would not. Grima said that you ran off from cowardice and fear, and almost everyone believed it, even my uncle. But some didn't, even my brother. I told him the whole story, because I knew I could trust him. Grima would have hurt me if I had spoken the dead truth to anyone else! So we kept you a secret here in Rohan, and you see that everyone is really glad to have you back!"

"It's good to be back. I'm so happy, seriously, I've missed this place like none other. So, what have you been up to? Snatching all the good-looking guys out from under my nose?"

"Oh Adelaide, stop it!"

"Why aren't you engaged by now? My gosh, you're so hot I think all the planets are gonna start revolving around you."

Eowyn burst out laughing. "You're never late for wit, Adelaide! I missed it."

"And I just missed my friend." Adelaide's eyes shone, and Eowyn's eyes sparkled brightly in return. They stood there, arms around each other's waists, just smiling happily at each other. Then Adelaide said:

"Dude, we've, like, got seventeen years of talking to catch up on."

"Seventeen years?" Eowyn questioned. "But you've only been gone for eight months."

"Eight mo—hold it a sec. What do you mean, gone only eight months?"

"That's your imagination working again, Addy," Aragorn said.

"How the hell does that work? I feel like I'm in a time machine! Oh well—okay, so we have eight months of talk to catch up on!"

"Oh no you don't!" said Gandalf strictly, breaking up the party. "You, young lady, (meaning Adelaide) are coming with us. You know you have work to do."

"Aw, Gandalf…"

"None of that!"

"But—"

"Not another word!"

Aragorn laughed. "Let her have some time, Gandalf," he said. "See, here are two friends reunited again! They are happy. Let them be for a while. A time will later come when their services are demanded, but let them rejoice in each other's company for a while."

"Yes," said Theoden. "Bring food for the guests! Let the meat be set upon the board, and let the choicest wines and fruits be brought forth! And Adelaide, change those clothes."

"But—"

"None of that."

"But—"

"None of that either! You aren't even in proper apparel! Imagine, running around the place without a gown! Go and wash up, and come back with a gown on!"

"Dude, you just come out of demonic possession, and the first things you tell me are 'wash up and come back with a gown on'! Who says that? And hello to you, too, by the way!"

"Don't think I haven't noticed you. Only Adelaide would make my niece so happy again." Theoden smiled. "Now go change your clothes."

Eowyn giggled and took Adelaide's hand. "Come with me," she said. "I have much to show you! I have more gowns than I need; come and help me choose one for you."

Adelaide grumbled, but allowed herself to be led away. And as she left, she heard a "Hail, Theoden King!" behind her, and she smiled. Everything was going to be alright.

Then she remembered Theodred, and she stopped. She turned to Eowyn. The latter's face was pale and beautiful, but it was still sad, and Adelaide recognized the immediate need for comfort. Once upon a time, there had been only one comforter for herself, and now she would be like a sister to her friend who needed comfort as well. She had been living in perdition's flames, as she herself once did. Now the healed would comfort the healing.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your cousin," she said softly, holding her friend's hand.

"How did you know?" Eowyn turned, startled, and then her eyes widened in wonder. "You've seen Eomer!"

"Uh-huh. Not three or four days ago; we were tracking some of our buddies…OMG, it's a long story. But anyway, we ran into Eomer, and he told us what was going on here. And he told us that Theodred had been wounded. But just now, before we came into the Hall, Hama told me he'd died."

"Not so very long ago," Eowyn said softly. Adelaide blinked, and was quiet. Eowyn slipped her hand into her friend's. "Do not fear now, Adelaide. He is in a better place. Moreso than here, when Grima was around, and my uncle was steeped into Sauruman's possession. I wanted to write to you, to tell you what was happening, but I knew not of your whereabouts, and all my letters were destroyed by Grima. Such suffering we have endured here! I would not have minded, but for the loss of you. I always knew you would come back. Never shall it be said that you are not a woman of your word, Adelaide."

"Forget the words," said Adelaide softly. "You've been living in hell, Eowyn. I should have never left. I should have stayed."

"Grima would have killed you, if no one else would have."

"He's a coward. Didn't you hear him a minute ago? He was scared shitless of me the whole time. I would have creamed him silly if he'd dared touch you. That's why he had to get rid of me, and it worked…for a while."

The girls were quiet for a moment. They approached Eowyn's room, and the young woman took out a key, unlocking the door and slipping in quietly. Adelaide took a quick look around. Most of the heavy furniture was stacked close to the door, and there were iron bars, hammered crudely into place by the window. Eowyn nodded.

"He tried just about everything to get into here. When I tried to hire a bodyguard, he threatened to kill that man's family. When I brought in my handmaidens, he killed one and drove off the others. I finally took action for myself." She slipped her hand under her pillow, exposing a dagger. "I would have killed him, Adelaide."

"I don't blame you one bit, babe."

"Where do you think he's gone now?"

Adelaide thought for a minute. Lots of things were possible, knowing Grima. The darkness of his heart and the humiliation of his wounded pride would not allow him to ever return to Rohan, but that didn't mean he wouldn't go elsewhere. And elsewhere meant that he would very well return to his master, Sauruman. That dirty little wizard! How could he betray the Istari, and give up hope for the good of Middle Earth? It didn't seem right. He was beyond all hope now, and there was nothing that could truly be done for him. But together with Grima, they would perhaps try something deadly, and a snake with its head still intact is a deadly enemy. And a wizard wasn't exactly someone whom you would call happy days.

"He went back to Sauruman," said Adelaide with knowledge and certainty in her voice. "They'll cook something up, now that Grima escaped. Grima has eyes, despite the fact that they look like rotten eggs. He sees and he knows. He's a rascal, and we're going to have to warn your uncle about that."

"But first, we must tend to our dead," said Eowyn softly, taking hold of her friend's hand, and pressing it. "I have a gown for you, here."

At that moment, from outside, they heard a soft cry. "_Where is Theodred?_" asked the old king. "_Where is my son?_"

The funeral was held in the gravesite of the royal family, where Theoden's forefathers had been buried. Now they bore along Theodred, and laid him into the ground to rest. A throng of people had come to weep and mourn their prince, but Eowyn and Adelaide faced the bier with resolute strength. Eowyn had tied her hair back, and Adelaide had braided hers. Eowyn sang the funeral chanting song for the warrior who has been slain in battle. Adelaide was quiet, and watched as Theodred was borne along and placed in the tomb, his face cold and pale, his body bathed, and his soul at peace.

"_An evil death has set forth the noble warrior, a song shall sing sorrow, minstrels in Meduseld that he is no more, to his lord, dearest and most beloved of his kinsmen."_

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, along with Gandalf, watched the proceedings with sorrow in their hearts. They had not known the prince, but their hearts went out to him. Adelaide had often told them about Rohan and Theodred, and from her description, the lad had been a fine warrior, and a gentleman also. It was a pity that he had to die at so young of an age.

After the funeral, Gandalf lingered back with Theoden, who stood by the grave of his son and picked a flower that bloomed there by the doorway to the earth. He looked long at him, caressing the five white petals with his eyes.

"Simbelmyne," he said softly. "Ever has it grown on the graves of my forebears. Now it covers the grave of my son." His eyes grew moist. "Alas that these evil days should be mine! The young die, the old linger, and that I should live to see the last days of my house!"

Gandalf smiled in comfort to the old king. "He did not die in vain," he said. "In life he was a valiant warrior, a noble young man of virtue and upstanding birth. It is up to you to see that what he fought for is not left unattended, and in vain."

Theoden faced the West. Evening was peaking. Shadows were already covering the land, and a great silence had settled here. He saw the footprints of his relatives, and saw too, all the love of his son, and the happy days of his youth. He saw his own follies and his joys and sorrows. He saw all of that from where he stood, and the memories flooded him.

"No parent should have to bury their child!" he murmured. He burst into a flood of tears, remembering his son. "No parent should have to go through this!"

Gandalf allowed Theoden to cry; he allowed him to bitterly regret his own faults and mourn over the loss of his child. But as he himself turned, he saw far away the shape of a horse on the top of the hill. Two young people were in the saddle, and as he looked closer, a boy fell from the high perch, out of hunger. The young girl stayed atop, her hair in the wind, her tear-stained face haggard and frightened.

"Adelaide, Eowyn," called Gandalf. The two young women turned and quickly rushed out to the scene. Inside, a fire was lit, and the children were wrapped warmly, and given some soup to eat. As they ate, the children talked to Adelaide and Eowyn, and the two maidens got what they could out of the children before turning to Theoden, who sat upon his throne in utter bewilderment.

"They had no warning," said Eowyn, turning to her uncle. "They were unarmed. Now the wild men are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot and tree."

"Eomer said that Sauruman was walking abroad," remarked Adelaide. "He probably incited the masses."

"Where's mommy?" the little girl cried, and Eowyn turned to her.

"Hush, dear, your mother's going to be alright."

Gandalf, sitting by King Theoden's side, pointed at the children. "This is but a taste of the horror which Sauruman has conjured. Rohan will be next if you do not do something."

Theoden looked at Gandalf. "And?" he pressed.

"Ride out, my lord Theoden! You must fight. Ride out and meet him head-on!"

Theoden looked at Gandalf's hand which curled about his throne seat arm in his fierce intensity. So much in likeness did it bear to the hand of Grima, for he too, had been a counselor, though he had been bad. What was Gandalf trying to get him to do?

He stood, and paced the floor. Aragorn looked him over. "You have three hundred good men riding north even as we speak," he said. "Eomer is loyal to you. Call him back."

Theoden turned to him. "He will be leagues away from here by now," he mused. "There is no time to call upon him for aid!" He whirled around to face Gandalf. "I know what you want of me," he said shortly. "But I will not risk open war and the lives of my people."

"Open war is upon you, whether you wish it or not," said Aragorn. Theoden turned around to him, and fire was in his eyes. It's rather hard to be bossed around right when you come from being held captive, and you know you're a king. You always want to imagine you can do things by yourself, without help.

"The last I looked," Theoden snapped. "Theoden, and not Aragorn son of Arathorn, was king of Rohan."

The awkward tension was so thick, Adelaide could have sliced it with a knife and served it with tea. It's not easy, after all, to be ordered about when you have a kingly pride the size of Russia. Gandalf crossed his arms.

"And what is to be the king's decision?" he asked calmly. Theoden turned and looked at him, a faraway look in his eyes.

"We might," he murmured. "Move to Helm's Deep."

Adelaide suddenly choked and looked up. She and Eowyn looked at each other, and then Adelaide cleared her throat. "If you don't mind," she said. "I think we ought to take the little ones to bed." She picked up the boy, who was finishing with his soup. "We really wish we didn't have to miss this. But don't wait for us," she told Aragorn, as Eowyn picked up the girl. Both children were already fast asleep in the arms of the maidens. "We'll…uh, be alright."

Frodo and Sam stopped to rest in the shade of some rocks. The day was quite cool out, and just over the hill was supposed to be the Black Gate. Frodo was not a little nervous about attacking it so soon; and he was more than nervous about attacking it altogether, but Gollum seemed to think that it was the best thing to do. He was letting the hobbits rest now, for a moment, before they continued. "Mighty fine of him," Sam had said. "But still, I wish he weren't around us. Pew! What a smell he makes!"

Frodo found it harder and harder to bear the burden. Literally, the Ring seemed to be weighing upon him, bringing his neck and head closer to what is known as ground; a gravitational pull seemed to tug slowly at him. Sam was trying to be kind to Frodo with all his strength, as much as he could, anyway. He let Frodo eat more than he himself did, and he carefully watched his master's every move. He didn't like how hard his master seemed to bend.

At last, he found a subject that they could talk about without mention of the Ring.

"I wonder what the others are doing," he ventured. "I hope they're having more fun than we are."

Frodo laughed dryly. "Are we having fun, Sam?"

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but I am, rather. The whole trip has been somewhat of a neat little adventure. I only wish it were over soon."

"So do I, Sam, so do I," said Frodo, sighing. His thoughts ventured back to Adelaide. He was constantly thinking about her. He wanted to hurry with the mission so he could go back home and marry the lass, before anyone else snatched her up. Sam's words gave him hope and courage, but he really was worried about his little darling. Suppose something would happen to her! "I wonder what Adelaide's doing," he mused. "She's always having fun, whether the situation was boring, dangerous, or otherwise."

"Of course she is, Mr. Frodo. That's because she takes life by the horns, as what she said to me. She never beats around the bush."

Gollum came up, sniffing. "What are we talking about, eh, precious?" he asked. "Nice hobbits resting? Or talking senselessly?"

"Don't you be a-saying of those things!" said Sam roughly. "We weren't talking senselessly, we were talking about something of great importance."

"Importance, yess, my precious, very important matters here in these cold dark lands! But what kind of matters, yess, we wonders."

"You needn't wonder," said Sam. "Mr. Frodo was only thinking of his Adelaide."

"Sam," groaned Frodo. "Let's not go there!"

"I'm sorry," said Sam, meekly.

"What's that, eh, precious?" Gollum was curious. But Frodo cleared his throat.

"I'll tell you sometime," he said, casting a glance at Sam. "Only not now. I don't know if I want you to know right now."

"Okay, you're uncle's a numb-nut," Adelaide announced, as soon as the children were tucked into bed. "Helm's Deep? What the fuck? Like that's going to help anything!"

Eowyn rolled her eyes. "It's a suicide trap. I know. But my uncle will have little recourse."

"Eh, he ought to know better. Won't Sauruman expect him to make that move?"

"Possibly. But staying here will not help, either."

"There's nowhere else to take this?"

"I'm afraid not."

Adelaide sighed, and she and Eowyn started down for dinner.

"So tell me," Adelaide said as they walked (deliberately slowly, of course, so as to buy themselves more time). "What _did_ happen after I left? What exactly did Grima do?"

"Ugh, I can hardly bear to relate everything," Eowyn's face contorted in disgust and anger. "The whole incident was horrible. No sooner than the morning following your escape, Grima's band of guards entered looking for you, armed with knives and swords. Oh, Adelaide, if you had been there, surely would I have feared for your life! They tore your bed apart looking for you, and everything you had left behind was torn, burned, and defiled. Rohan was scoured, but you had evidently run far off the borders. I know that they searched even beyond, but for weeks, no word was heard, and there was talk of your apparent death by wayfaring orcs or a misstep into the river. But everyone who knew you—and there were many, Adelaide—determined that this could not be so. The warrant still holds until my uncle tears it up. Has he done so yet?"

"Negative. I'll ask him about it later. What else happened?"

"Everything went 'ka-put,' as you would say."

"So I gathered."

"You could not imagine the worst horror of it."

"No? Murder, or else assasination, rape, and those slips of the tongue whereby men were punished, secrets revealed, and all for Grima's end purpose?"

"Oh Adelaide, and that is what is so horrible!" Eowyn cried. "He used to be a man. Why did he do such things? Why did he want to separate us so much, to drive us apart? And why did he come to do so much evil? Was it only for the sake of Rohan's treasure, and for my own body? How could he have stooped so low as to enter into a bonding agreement with the white wizard Sauruman?"

"'Cause he's a bag of cat-dope, that's why. He saw his end as the good for him, and he devoted his actions to that end. Selfish purposes, however, proved his downfall. He got careless, actually. He might have had hands as clean as a baby's butt, when in reality he did not hide very much. Very little of what he said was undercover. Eomer knew. I knew. He had to get rid of us."

"He got rid of everyone who suspected him. Do you remember the cook, Deothan? He let us throw all those parties? Well, he spied on Grima…and tried to assassinate him three times!"

"Three? Good Lord, I'd give anything to see that."

"Yes, well, it took the third time for Grima to realize how matters stood...and he poisoned the cook with his own dish."

"Why didn't anyone else help?"

"Who would want to?" Eowyn said miserably. "They were so feared of Grima, his threats on their lives, and of his influence with the king...and his double influence with wizards and darker things. There were few who were so daring, and those that did dare are now dead. But listen! You have not heard the worst lot of it. For years I have suffered this. My brother was thrown out after he tried to defend me from Grima...then it was only myself and Theodred, who would have rather been out hunting, to avoid Grima. But he went valiantly into battles, and won many victories...except this last—"

"Eowyn, don't talk about it. You'll start crying again, and we have to have dry eyes for your uncle. What did Grima do to you?"

"There was attempted rape several times...I do not know how, but his men were eager to do his bidding! He could not woo, so he resorted to more forceful tactics. If I were not so skilled in a blade, I think I should have either died or been shamed..."

"Oho, you knifed him?"

"I did all in self-defense."

"I daresay," Adelaide winked. "Was he turned on by the refusal?"

"Oh Adelaide! Stop now!"

Adelaide laughed, and then sobered. "No, seriously, I was joking, but in reality, lots of violent guys get turned on by refusal. It's because they see a woman as an object, and it's like a game to them."

"I do not know, then..."

"Ah, well. It's over and done with, thank God. Look, we need to rebuild this place; there's no talking space."

They entered the vast room of court and sat down at table, joining Aragorn, Gimli, and the others. Talk revolved around the politics of the time, and the king learned much from Aragorn and Gandalf. When talk had somewhat ceased, and everyone had had their fill, Eowyn stood and cleared her throat.

"Uncle," she said graciously. "Good King of Rohan, I have a request."

"Speak, sister-daughter. For you of all my people have rights to favors. What is it you desire?"

Eowyn put her hands on Adelaide's shoulders. "Months ago you wrongly signed a warrant for this woman's death, though she was innocent of any crime. I would ask that you retract the warrant and let her be a daughter of Rohan once more."

"Bring the warrant," King Theoden lost no time, and quickly turned to one of his guards. "Let this thing be found, so that I may tear it up. Feodral," he looked at Adelaide, who gave him an expectant grin and made the peace-sign with her fingers. "Guilty or innocent, you know I could not have the heart to kill you. My mind was possessed. Therefore, forgive me, and we shall once more be proud to call you our daughter, a shield-maiden of Rohan, and my sister-daughter's most gracious friend."

"Apology accepted," Adelaide nodded. "I knew all along that you wouldn't do something like that on purpose, not after you'd been so kind to me. Good ol' Teddy!"

A guard presented a dusty old scroll to the king, and Theoden unwrapped its bindings. Then Theoden read the warrant out loud, called for witnesses (of which there were about seventeen total), and ripped the paper to shreds. Adelaide was free at last from the warrant, and she had no more worries. She grinned and gripped Eowyn's hand, and the two girls hugged tightly.

Later, Eowyn and Adelaide left the table, but Adelaide was stopped by Legolas.

"Permit me, my Lady," he said softly, and raised Adelaide's hand to his lips. Adelaide hesitated. It was all the time the Elf needed to let his lips glide softly over the smooth white skin, and linger of a moment upon the tender tips of her fingers, before he let her hand drop. "Congratulations," he offered helpfully. "It was good to see that you are no longer the hunted. May the true hunter get his just deserts."

It was something to be able to kiss her hand and not allow her to strike at him. A couple days ago, she might have kicked him in the balls.

It seemed, however, as if she never wanted to learn how to love anything other than the Ringbearer. She was stubborn. Once she had her heart set on something, there was no changing her mind. For now, he merely looked into her eyes, wanting her, becoming hot for her with every beat of his heart. What eyes she did have! She was a girl of many moods and many hearts; her eyes could dance, pierce, love, give peace, and tease. A look from her face was enough to know that he had made a profound impact. "Fare you well," he said. "Sleep well, my lady."

"Uh…sure. You, too." Adelaide bobbed her head. Legolas smiled at her and watched as she disappeared down the long corridor with her friend. His head was spinning, and yet the sensation had been delightful. A pleasure it was, and a pleasure it might continue to be, if she only allowed him to do this more often. As he turned to go back, Aragorn caught him.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were kissing her hand, just now," the man scolded. "Are you trying to pull strings that are not yours to pull?"

"I don't know what you mean. She does not even wear a corset," the Elf replied serenely.

"Who was that?" asked Eowyn. "I deem it was an Elf, but what an Elf! Most curiously handsome."

"Hum? Oh, Legolas? He's the Prince of Mirkwood," said Adelaide.

"Really? Oh, Adelaide, how romantic! Simply terribly dramatic! Has he asked for your hand yet?"

"No. And I hope he never does. I don't like him. I have a boyfriend."

"Oh, do you?" Eowyn's eyes shone. "What's his name?"

"Frodo Baggins."

"Hm. Not a very striking name. Is he from Gondor?"

"No…the Shire."

"A land in the North? But they say small men walk there. How tall is this boyfriend of yours?"

Adelaide winced. "3'6."

Eowyn stopped dead, and started laughing. "Three and a half feet! Adelaide! He is the size of a child! How old is he?"

Adelaide cringed. "Fifty."

"Well, now I really don't know what to say. Fifty years old, the size of a child, a little man from the North! Oh, Adelaide, I always knew you were a bit unusual, but I didn't think you were that strange. I always pictured you with someone like the Elf. He's tall and handsome, and he seems to adore you."

"Yes, well, my boyfriend adores me, too, and he's twice as hot as Legolas. You'll have to meet him, sometime. He's, like, totally cool."

"Oh." Eowyn went into her thoughtful mode. "Adelaide, who is the other man, there, who came with your company? The tall one, dark, and handsome, too?"

"Aragorn? Oh, he's alright. He's cool. He's got the brain capacity of a walnut, but he's nice."

Eowyn seemed to be really out in the blue. Her eyes had a faraway look, and she hardly seemed to look where she was going. Adelaide didn't like it. She waved her hand in front of Eowyn's face.

"Eowyn? Yoo-hoo? Snap out of it! Wake up!"

"I'm here," said the maiden dreamily. "Aragorn? What a strong name indeed."

_Oh, no_, thought Adelaide desperately. _Eowyn's on a fling. This isn't good. Aragorn isn't going to like this. I have to think of something to say…_

"Tell me more," said Eowyn. "However did you link up with him?"

"Oh good Lord…that's a freakin' long story. Got the time of day?"

So Adelaide plunged into the long story of the Shire and meeting up with Gandalf. She told Eowyn of Frodo and the hobbits, and how good they had all been to her. She told her all about how she had met up with Aragorn, and the fun they had had together. Eowyn wanted to hear all about Rivendell and Lothlorien, and the Elves, and Moria, and how Gandalf had fought the Balrog. She was interested in the fighting scenes, especially with the orcs, and wanted to know all about the death of Boromir. She was flattered to hear how Adelaide had told them all about her and how she was trying to get back to her friend. But she wanted to hear all that Eomer had had to say. She had not heard from her brother for many weeks. It was a great comfort to her to know that he was still alive and kicking. Adelaide smiled as she told her how Eomer had mistaken her for a boy, and both of the maidens laughed at what he had said afterwards.

"I envy you," sighed Eowyn. "To do great deeds unto renown! Ah! What I would give for to do the things you have done!"

"Eowyn, I was scared shitless the entire time. None of it was a bed of roses. I look back on the events and I would like to know just what the fuck I was thinking, at the time!"

"Ah, but you've gotten out," Eowyn argued. "And have seen so much more than I."

"Dude, don't worry. We'll kick ass together, yet."

Eowyn smiled. "I cannot wait to see that day!" she exclaimed. "When, together, side by side, we shall ride to renown, and great rejoicing! And when we defeat the enemy, we shall be looked upon with love and respect, and no one shall hinder our way into the world!" she said. Adelaide smiled. It was good that Eowyn was thinking big dramatic thoughts, but something seemed a little wrong with the whole picture. She couldn't figure it out. But something was different about her friend. What could it be? Was it…nah, it was only the strain of being cooped up with Grima for so long.

Both girls stayed up late into the night, talking. Aragorn, outside with Theoden, Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli, was discussing warfare, when they heard the girls talking above their heads. They continued as normal, but when the girls started singing, it got a little annoying.

"IF YOU LIKE PEÑA COLADA!"

"IF YOU LIKE GETTING CAUGHT IN THE RAIN!"

Aragorn sighed.

"AND WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"

"Gandalf, it's late—"

"WE ARE FAM-I-LEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"—and those maidens should—"

"EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE FATTER THAN MEEEEEEEEEE!"

"—get to sleep," Aragorn said, exasperated. "They're going to drive me insane!"

"HEY NOW, YOU'RE AN ALL-STAR, GET YOUR GAME ON, GO PLAYEEEEEEEEE!"

"Are they bouncing on the beds?" demanded Gimli.

"Sounds like it," Theoden smiled serenely.

"ALL THAT GLITTERS IS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLD!"

"Damn it all!"

"Ho!" chuckled Gandalf. "You are fast becoming fond of Adelaide's speech, Aragorn. Let the girls chatter. They will eventually fall asleep. And we will have no fear of that, mind you. Rest is good for the weary body, and they have much to catch up on."

"A WHOLE NEW WOOOOOOOOOORLD!"

Aragorn sighed again.

"What?" smiled Gandalf. "Who was it who said, 'Let her have some time, Gandalf,'? It was not me."

"TELL ME PRINCESS, NOW WHEN DID YOU LAST LET YOUR HEART DECIIIIIIIIIIIIDE?"

"Now you rub it in," said Aragorn, groaning. "I take it all back."

"Let them talk," said Theoden. "They are young, and you have not known them as I have, when the years were sweet before Grima. Feodral is good medicine for my niece, who has not seen sunlight for many years."

"So then," Eowyn gasped, clutching her sides and rocking back and forth with unbridled laughter. "So then, Grima blocked my way up the stairs, but Gwen was coming down from behind with the latrine mess, and she heard Grima tell me that my hair was as far as the yellow lilies in spring, and she dumped…she…she dumped…the…entire…mess…on…his…on his _head_!"

Tears started running down the girls' faces as they exploded again, and Adelaide did a fairly good imitation of Grima screaming with a load of human waste on his head.

"! OMG, that's so damn funny…give me another!"

"It's your turn," said Eowyn, choking on her laughter.

"Well, alright…let me see. Oh, I know! When we were off from Rivendell, Pippin Took goes, 'So where are we going?' and everyone just gives him this look, you know? And then he accidentally tips in a dwarf corpse in the mines, and makes a noise that scares the hell out of us all, and Gandalf snaps at him. I started to laugh, because it was so hilariously funny; everything was just dead silence, and it was, like, 'Pippin, you idiot!' But Gandalf looked at me, and said, 'don't you encourage him, young lady!'"

"Oh, I've got one," Eowyn wiped away tears. "So, Eomer came back one day with a beautiful bruise on his eye. And I asked him, 'Did you get into a fight?' And he grumbled and wouldn't answer me. Then Hama said, 'We were in the thick of the fight, lady, and your brother came out unharmed.' So I said, 'So, what has he got the bruise for?' And Hama snickered, leaned in close to me, and said, 'He was doing his war-whoop-dance and slipped on a decapitated arm!'"

Adelaide burst out laughing. "OMG, he is hysterical. Do you remember when he tried to dance, like we taught him? He was like, 'I don't think I'm doing this right!' And then he tripped over his own feet and landed face-first in the bowl of dip!"

Eowyn got up and began doing an imitation of Eomer dancing. Adelaide was laughing so hard that her face was red, and tears began streaking down her cheeks.

"Oh please...oh Lord...I think I'm gonna keel over...Eowyn, we've got to stop—"

"Oh Smadelaide..."

"Oh Smeowyn..."

"Lady, we ought to—"

"Yeah, we probably should—"

"But we really don't want to, do we?"

"Nope!"

The two girls were having the time of their lives when there was a knock at the door. Both maidens dived under their covers and pretended to be asleep. Theoden came in.

"Alright, fair maidens, it is time for sleep," he said. "I know you're under there! Don't make me come in and tickle you out."

Adelaide snored. Eowyn burst out into a fit of giggles, and Theoden smiled, affectionately.

"That's enough!"

"She started it!" Eowyn peeped. Adelaide leaned over and whacked her friend on the rump.

"Shut up, stupid. Uncle Teddy, that was totally not me. She started it first."

"Oh, lay off it, Addy."

"You, girl."

"Enough!" Theoden was kindly about the issue. "You two are worse than hens in a hen-house. Please, go to sleep now, and let us discuss our matters below in peace. Adelaide, the company bids you goodnight, and there are tidings of a peaceful sleep for you, too, Eowyn, from the Lord Aragorn. I think he feels for your loss."

But all Eowyn really heard was that Aragorn, dream-boat Aragorn, had said goodnight to her.

"Return his goodwill, uncle," she said, breathlessly. Adelaide's eyes widened. Theoden nodded.

"Sleep in peace," he said gently.

Frodo and Sam had been hiking all that day, with a very restless Gollum in the lead. Every so once in a while he would look back and urge them on with impatience, his padding feet quivering, and his hands flapping. He did not sleep really, but kept watch while the hobbits slept, and only hissed in his snake-like voice, which vibrated from the very bowels of this throat. Often he muttered, or sulked to himself, and it was not unusual to hear him talking to himself (as he really had no one else to talk to. Well, he did have the hobbits, but before that, virtually there was no one. Therefore, I say that it wasn't unusual). They were close to the Black Gate, now, he was telling them. Yes, they were very close indeed. Would the hobbits like to turn back? It was now or forever hold their peace. Would perhaps the nice hobbit (and not the stupid, fat hobbit) like to give the precious back to Smeagol? He would go away and do lots of good with it, especially to nice hobbiteses (but not the stupid fat hobbit).

Frodo had to glare at Smeagol and scold him for thinking such thoughts. He was in danger of corruption and possessive desire again, and that was not good, especially if they were nearer than ever to Mordor. He had to try and save Gollum from whatever fate had in store for him. He felt pity for Gollum, even as he himself had known about the Ring's corruptive powers upon himself. But he would not let him think such thoughts about the Ring. It must never grab ahold of him again! Adelaide would have told him that the very thought of that ever happening was in vain; there was a 1 in 1 go-billion chance. But he must not give up hope, no matter how far away Gollum seemed.

The air became dryer as they approached the gate. Ahead of them lay a tall foundation of rock, and up this, Gollum said, they had to climb. It was only over this hill that the Black Gate was, but the hobbits would have to be very careful, yes indeed. They would have to follow Smeagol, and be very, very good. Very, very cautious.

Frodo and Sam wearily dragged their bodies up the foundation. Sam cut his knee, and Frodo scraped his foot, but other than that, no other injuries were suffered.

_Following them both, Adelaide started up the foundation in her nightgown, totally invisible to them. These running dreams could be very useful. But she was with her love, and that was what mattered. She had visited him in the swamps; she had visited him when the Nazgul flew overhead, and now she was with him for the Black Gate. She herself scraped her foot as she climbed up, barefoot as a monkey, but she did not cry out in pain. No, she wanted nothing to do with pain. She wanted to see and be closer to Frodo. _

"Did you ever get the feeling that we're being followed?" panted Sam, as he struggled next to Frodo, his heavy pack swaying on his back.

"No," gasped Frodo, reaching upwards. "Why do you ask?"

"I just have this funny feeling, like we're being followed," said Sam. He looked behind him, but there was no one.

_She ducked to avoid being seen, but then she smiled, and remembered that they couldn't see her at all…this was a running dream, after all. Up, up, up she climbed, until she peered over a boulder, next to Frodo. On the other side of her, Gollum popped up, and she shied away from his presence. O man. He stank, he really did. But he seemed to have caught something in the wind, and he turned, looking at her, through her, at Frodo. _

"Smeagol smells something," said Gollum, muttering. "Not a hobbit."

_Maybe it's yourself, garbage-bag._

"There! What did I say, Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam. "We're being followed!"

"I don't know. I can't see anyone," said Frodo. "Can you, Smeagol?"

"Smeagol doesn't see anyone," remarked the creature. "But he smells, yes, precious, he smells. Not a hobbit. Something else."

_I would check your own BO if I were you, G-boy._

_At first, she thought that Frodo might pay attention to him, but her love only brushed him off. He was concentrating on the large Black Gate. Well, it wasn't a cute little white picket fence with daisies, but what else could you expect? Large, black, and menacing, Adelaide felt the tremor of fear in her heart as she gazed at it. Beside her, she could feel Frodo stiffening in fear himself, and quivering. Her angel! He must not be frightened. She laid a hand on his back._

"What's that?" asked Frodo.

"What's what?" asked Sam.

"I felt something," said Frodo. "Like something put a hand on my back. But it's gone now. Never mind. What a gate!"

"There it is," said Sam, gloomily. "Now we ought to knock or ring a doorbell or something. We need in."

"Don't make jokes about it," hissed Gollum. 'It isn't funny, no! Stupid hobbit doesn't know _anything_! Orcses in there, and pits, pits, thousands of pits and other nasty things. Smeagol knows."

_He knows too much, and this much Adelaide knew. He could lead Frodo into a trap. _

"Let's go!" said Sam, ignoring Gollum. Suddenly, from down below, came a large cry, and they all looked down. Soldiers wearing masks and helms came marching forth to the Black Gate. Spears they held in their hands, and swords, with gold and armor. Strong they looked, like men, only with much more menace. Orderly, they marched to the Black Gate. As Frodo watched, trolls in the pivot of the gate started to move, and swing their pulleys. The gate started to creak open. Little by little it was forced open, like the huge mouth of a giant clam, silent and wary.

Sam leaned out. "I think I see a way down!" he called excitedly to Frodo. He leaned out a bit too far. The stone beneath him gave way, and before anyone could do anything, he slid with a cry down the rocky slope, to land buried up to his chest in rocky grit. Frodo and Gollum both gave a cry of horror, and Frodo leaped up. He slid down the slope, heedless of the guards in the line. They turned, attracted by the noise and the dust that was kicking up from the hillside. Two of them marched over.

Frodo tried to heave Sam out of the grit, but Sam was too heavy, and the grit was all around him. There was no time! He looked up and saw the guards marching over. Quickly thinking, although he did not know why, he whipped his Elven-cloak about the two of them, hiding beneath it. Instantly, they looked like a plain rock, as the Elven-cloaks had been made to resemble. The words of Galadriel came back to Frodo: "The Elves have put their love of nature and color into these garments, and would aid you in melting into the forest landscape, or any other landscape, like a mirage in the desert."

_The minute Sam had slid down Adelaide took off after him, sliding down and trying to aid Frodo. She watched the soldiers march forward. And she grinned at them, knowing that they could not see her. They looked here and there, but they could not see anything. They shrugged their shoulders, and then left to join their ranks again. Adelaide breathed a sigh of relief. _

The minute the footprints had died away, Frodo tore off the cloak, heaved Sam to his feet, and wrenched him back behind a rock, safely, where they could observe. Gollum had come back down, and was looking at them.

"What are they?" asked Sam, a bit dusty.

"The dark Lord is gathering all armies to him, yes," said Gollum. "Soon he will fight the big battle."

"What battle?"

"The battle that will change all peoples, yes. It will turn all into shadow," said the creature, softly, menacingly. Frodo paid no attention to this. His whole will was bent on the gate. It was closing. There! Now! He had to get in now!

"I do not ask you to come with me, Sam," he said, his hands twitching upon the rock.

"I know, Mr. Frodo." Sam would have followed his master to the ends of the earth.

Frodo then tried to leap over the rocks, when something violently cried out, grabbed him, and heaved him back.

"No, no, no! They catch you, they catch you! Don't go to the Gate, master! Don't bring the precious to him!"

Frodo could not understand half of the creature's jabbering. Smeagol whined in a high-pitched gurgle, and his eyes were frantic as he kept pulling on Frodo's sleeve. Frodo ignored him and made another dash at the quickly-closing gate. But Gollum jerked him back.

"No, no! Master must listen to Smeagol, nice Smeagol! There's a path, a path, another way into the land!"

Sam grabbed him roughly. "Why didn't you speak of this before?" he snapped.

"Because master did not ask!" snarled Gollum, throwing off Sam's hand. "Master said, 'Bring me to the gate.' So we did. But don't go to Him! Don't take the precious to Him, master, masster!" he pawed at Frodo's garment. Frodo looked at him helplessly and then back at the gate, which was now shut beyond hope. Tears started to spring into his eyes, but they were quickly wiped away, by the wind, he thought.

_Don't cry, Frodo, thought Adelaide. No. Don't cry. There's another way. You can do it. You can take it. Make me proud, hobbit-boy. My darling. She wiped away his tears and kissed his cheek, softly, like the whisper of the wind. She could feel him stiffen under her movements, as he had done so in the Shire. Reaching down, she stroked his leg, being ever so sweet to him. Come on, Frodo, she thought. Come on. You can do it._

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam couldn't understand it, but his master's head was thrown back in a sort of ecstasy, and his eyes were closed. He seemed to be thinking, or at least dreaming. Finally, he opened his eyes. Never had he felt so in tune to a rush of wind before; it had been gentle, caressing, and urging.

"He's led us this far," said Frodo to Sam. "He's been true to his word. Alright," he said, turning to Gollum. "We will take this pass. Lead the way, Smeagol."

Gollum gave a gurgling cheer and hopped off in a different direction. Sam looked at Frodo.

"Mr. Frodo, no!"

But Frodo felt the rush of need to fulfill his quest, and felt too, the breeze that soothed his throbbing groin and cooled his sweaty forehead. It would not be long now until they rested again. The weight of the Ring was weighing upon him, but now it seemed lighter, and easier to bear. He did not understand it. But the breeze stayed with him until he lay down to sleep. It almost snuggled at his side, and then left, leaving him with a fair dream.

_She walked with him. Her tender, bare feet were cut by the stones, and her clothes were caked with dust, but she followed him. And when he lay down to sleep, she nestled by his side, cooing like a child wanting to be petted. She went right through him, of course, being only a kind of ghost, but she could feel his warmth and his life. She tried to kiss him, and found nothing, not even soft flesh. Tears ran down her cheeks. She tried to snuggle closer, but nothing was there for her. Then Frodo turned, and reached out, in his dream. "Adelaide," he murmured, and she eagerly tried to come into his arms. But it was over. He could not feel her. Sobbing, she took one last look upon him. She wanted to stay with him forever, but her body was now working, her sobs racked her chest, and a light flamed within her—_


	7. A Grumpy, Grouchy, Crabby Day

Chapter 7

A Grumpy, Grouchy, Crabby Day

When Merry awoke the next morning, he found himself lying in a cool glen, surrounded by trees which filtered the golden sunlight onto the green ground. The light played over a babbling brook nearby, and the wind could be heard silently twinkling through the trees. He rose stiffly and stretched his creaking joints. He could barely remember why he was there, or where he was in the first place. He'd been having a dream, a dream that was awfully different than any others. Frodo and Sam had been sliding down a hill, and Adelaide had been perching on a rock nearby in a nightgown, looking frightened and timid. The dream had been so weird, almost real, but it was impossible, of course. Then he heard Pippin's voice. Pippin was sitting near the brook, a large stone vase in one hand, and a saucer in the other, and he was drinking from them. Merry's stomach gurgled. Come to think of it, he was hungry too. He hadn't had much to eat, and even water sounded filling at the moment.

"Hello?" he called. "Treebeard? Where's he gone to?"'

"I had the loveliest dream last night," Pippin sighed. "There was this large barrel of pipeweed, and we smoked all of it. And then…_you_ got sick."

Merry frowned.

"I'd give anything for a whiff of Old Toby," Pippin leaned his head back against a tree and sighed rapturously. At the same time, there was a noise, like the grinding of wheels, or like that of a creaky door. It was cross between a groan and a stomach gurgle. Merry stopped dead.

"Did you hear that…? There it is again!" He backed up nearer to Pippin. "Something's not right here. Not right at all."

Pippin nodded and burped. But his burp sounded precisely like the noise heard earlier! Merry turned to stare at him incredulously.

"You…you just said something…tree-ish!"

"No I didn't! I was just stretching!" Pippin burped again, and Merry watched in fascinated horror as his best friend sprouted head-first, burping all the way in a most unseemly manner.

"You're taller!" Merry gave a half-whispered cry.

"Who?"

"You!"

"Than what?"

"Than me!"

"I've always been taller than you!"

Merry put his hands on his hips. "Pippin! Everyone knows: I'm the tall one; you're the short one!"

"Please, Merry." Pippin gave him an indulgent look. "You're what, 3'6? At the most?"

Merry shrugged.

"Whereas me…I'm pushing 3'7!" He burped and sprouted higher. He gave a grin of glee. "3'8!"

Merry stared, horrified. "Three-_eight_!" Pippin took another swig of the water from the saucer. Merry glared at him. "You did something!"

Pippin shrugged and set the saucer down, looking up nonchalauntly at the trees. In an instant, Merry took the hint and grabbed the vase out of Pippin's unsuspecting hand and took a large draft. Pippin scrambled to stop him.

"Merry, no! Don't drink it! Merry! Treebeard said that you should never—"

He chased his friend around and around the glen, trying to get the vase from him. He finally trapped his friend up against the base of a tree, but what a surprise! The roots of this tree moved all on their own, and caught the poor hobbits fast, ensnaring their limbs and pulling them under the leaves and the roots until they were buried deep underneath near the soil. Merry and Pippin began screaming for help.

The forest, for a moment, was very still, the hobbits' cries almost unheard.

Treebeard came striding up, very hasty in manners and actions as he motioned to the large tree.

"Away with you! You should not be waking. Eat earth! Dig deep! Drink water! Go to sleep!"

As he said these words, as if by magic, the tree obeyed him, opening up its roots and releasing Merry and Pippin, who scrambled out immediately and hurried over to Treebeard, looking back fearfully at the strange tree that moved all by itself. Treebeard watched as his ward went back to sleep, and then leaned down, picking up the hobbits in each hand and placing them on his shoulders.

"Come. The forest is waking up. It is not safe for you here. The trees have grown wild and dangerous. Anger festers in their hearts. Black are their thoughts. They will harm you if they can. There are too few of us now; too few of us Ents left to manage them."

"Don't you have any children?"

"Mmm…there have not been any entings for a long time. You see, we lost the Entwives, so we have not been able to have Entings, or children." Merry patted Treebeard's bark.

"I'm sorry, Treebeard. How did they die?"

"They did not _die_! I never said 'die'! We _lost_ them!"

"Well, how did you lose them?"

Treebeard took a deep breath. "A long time ago, the Entwives made gardens of great beauty for themselves, away from the Ents," he began. "But when we came to look for the Entwives, their gardens were bare desolate deserts, and they were nowhere to be found! Some said they had gone North, others, South, and still others, West, but we have ever been searching for the Entwives."

"How very sad!" said Pippin.

"Yes. The Elves have made up many songs concerning the Entwives, and I should like to sing one for you…it is the one that sticks in my memory the best—"

Merry suddenly interrupted. "Treebeard," he said. "If we're to be kept safe, what about the others? What about Gandalf and Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli and Adelaide?"

"I do not know these people, except for Gandalf," replied Treebeard. "But they will more than likely fare well under Gandalf, if they are his friends. They are nice names, and one of them, I think, is Elvish."

"That would be Legolas," said Pippin. "He's the Elf who came with us on our journey."

"And then there's Aragorn, or Strider, the Ranger."

"And Gimli the dwarf."

"And Adelaide the—"

Treebeard suddenly stopped short. "A dwarf?" he bellowed. "Hoom, ha, well, I do not know what to say. Is this dwarf a companion of yours?"

"He likes trees," said Pippin, trying to sound like Gimli really did like trees. "And he and Legolas are friends."

"Hoom, hum, ho! Well, that is good news."

"In fact, his axe is for orc-heads, and not trees."

"Hoom, well, come! That is a better story," remarked Treebeard. "Dwarves are not well liked, I am afraid, among us Ents and the trees. They bear axes, and have little love for growing things. Rock and stone, that is their business; with mineral and sand. There is enough of it in Middle Earth. But a friendship with an Elf is unheard of!"

"Yes, I suppose so," replied Pippin softly.

"Now, who was the other member of your company?"

Merry and Pippin exchanged glances, and then said, "Adelaide."

"Who?"

"Adelaide!" cried Merry. "She's a young woman."

"Ah!" cried Treebeard. "It puts me in mind of the Entwives. I don't suppose you've seen any?"

Merry looked down, confused. "Er…no. I can't say as I have. You, Pip?"

Pippin shook his head. "What do they look like?"

Treebeard's eyes were sad as he marched forward, casting a desolate look upon the earthen floor.

"I don't remember."

Adelaide gasped, choked, and sat up in bed, coughing violently. All about her, it was very dark, but through the shutters streamed a little light. Eowyn was snoozing away in the twin bed beside Adelaide's. Carefully, the young woman leaned over and looked at her friend. Eowyn was deep in Sandman's Land.

Eowyn mumbled in her sleep and kicked out, nearly catching Adelaide across the hip. Geez, Adelaide had forgotten that Eowyn was a sleep-talker and thrashed around in bed. It had seemed so long ago that they had slept together in the same room in beds across from each other, but now the time seemed but only a day since it had last happened. They were used to doing everything together, best friends forever. Adelaide did not disturb her as she quietly tiptoed out of the room and closed the door behind her, going down the stairs and wandering out into the hall.

Gandalf was up, and with him was Aragorn. They were discussing things, but looked up as she entered.

"Well, well!" said Gandalf, smiling. "If this isn't a pleasant surprise! Why so early?"

"You know how it is," said Adelaide wearily. "The early bird catches the worm. I had another running dream."

"I can tell," said Aragorn, lighting his pipe. "Your feet and gown tell stories. Where have you been?"

"With Frodo," said Adelaide. Gandalf sat up straighter, and Aragorn leaped out of his seat.

"What! With him? Where is he? How is he doing?"

"He's fine," Adelaide said, rubbing her eyes. "They're at the Black Gate."

"And that's all the update we need," Gandalf said cheerfully. "This, I presume, is the second running dream you've had? Aragorn told me of the first. I knew it would happen sooner or later, and I'm heartily impressed that you've survived it so far. You're faring remarkably well. Well, now that you are here, change your clothes, bathe your feet, and come back here for the news. Theoden will be here soon, and we must know what is going to happen concerning warfare."

"Got it, wizard-man. Do I get to help?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On Theoden. He might not permit you to have a say in this."

"Nonsense. He knows me better than that."

"He knows you are a headstrong woman who could get hurt. And if he says to mind your own business, you mind your own business."

"What if I feel like minding anyone's business but my own?"

"You'd better prepare for disappointments, little lady. Don't you know that it is not a woman's place to be minding the business of men?"

"I already mind it, and so far nobody's said anything, so why should I care? I'll go and figure out what the hell is going on, thank you very much. Hey, where's Legolas? Didn't he get up this morning?"

Aragorn looked at her strangely. "He is out with Arod," he said. "He is taking care of the horses. He will be in shortly as well."

Adelaide nodded, but instead, headed for the stables. For some strange reason, she felt inclined to go see the Elf and

_Let him see you with a nightgown on_.

say good-morning. The stables were near the back of the hall, through a wooden door. They were actually a hall in themselves, lined with horse rooms, for horses were highly valued and respected in Rohan. It was not long until Adelaide saw a flash of gold among the brown and white, and she headed over. Legolas was stroking Arod's face and neck, speaking to him in Elvish, and smiling. Adelaide gulped. She wished that the Elf wasn't so darn handsome. It wasn't fair that he had to be so cute. But the Elf started, looked about, and his gentle eyes fell upon Adelaide. He turned to her, and smiled.

"Up so early, my lady," he said, continuing to caress Arod. "Are the stables your usual commitment in the morning? And in a night gown?"

It did not occur to Adelaide that she was flirting. She came over and began stroking Arod's nose. "I just came in to say good-morning. I already pounced on Aragorn and Gandalf. Now I need Gimli."

"Gimli is asleep in his bed, snoring away," said the Elf merrily. His eyes danced. "You, my lady, have you had a sleep well-earned?"

"Sort of. I mean, I had a running dream, and bruised myself by climbing rocks, but it's all good."

Legolas' face mirrored his concern, but he did not show any interest. Adelaide shrugged. She did not have to burden him with it all. He wanted to know, but if no interest was shown, she didn't have to plague him.

"So…how'd you sleep?" she asked, trying to be conversational.

_Why are you trying to make conversation? You're being stupid. I thought you hated this guy. Careful, Adelaide! I sense trouble abroad, and it's because you think you're falling in—_

Legolas smiled again.

"Like one who is in a dream," he said calmly. "And it was a very nice dream, I can assure you."

"I'll bet," Adelaide laughed, and danced around his meaning to what she knew he was really trying to say. "I can just see you dreaming of a whole bed of lembas bread."

"Now lady, you tease me," said the Elf playfully, stroking Arod's ears. "I was doing nothing of the kind. Elvish dreams dwell upon that which we love." His eyes roamed over her. "That which we adore and wish to keep with us forever. I should not like a bed of lembas. For one thing, it would spoil. For another thing, such a bed I do not want." He looked into her eyes. "I have my own bed, lady. It is soft, comfortable, and easy to rest upon."

Adelaide felt herself begin to grow dizzy.

_Am I teasing him?Oh God, what the hell am I doing?_

_Acting like a—_

_Get a grip, girl, and remember who you are. _

_What am I?_

_Well, for one thing, you are the girlfriend of another guy_

"And yet I only have one pillow on which to rest my head."

"Oh. That's…that's nice," Adelaide tried to ward off the spell. "Nobody needs two, I guess."

Legolas shrugged. "Naturally." His veins were throbbing; his heart was racing; his loins were on fire, and this girl was standing close to him, in a thin garb, with her hair down, and her lips longing for…

"Well, so long," Adelaide said. Best to leave the scene now, before she got into trouble, or made the Elf think things that were not appropriate. Legolas caught her arm.

"Wait, maid!"

Adelaide turned, her pulse pounding. Oh God! She'd done it, now. The hand that held her spoke of something very urgent; she could feel the tension in the Elf's voice, and the strain in his arm. He wanted something from her. She was certain of it. His eyes were deep and drowning, and his whole body was heaving slightly, a sign that she had always come to know as anger, or excitement. She tried to keep herself calm.

_Oh Lord, don't lose it. Remember—_

_Remember what?_

_Who, Adelaide, who! You have a boyfriend!_

Legolas brought her closer to him, wrapping an arm around her back and steadily pushing her into his embrace. His breath caught in his throat as he found her supple, and easy to bend, as if now she was finally letting go and receiving him. Legolas wanted nothing more than to sleep with this girl, but courting and seduction were in hand. The sight of her standing there, with tossed hair and a thin gown covering her naked form, was more than he could bear. He pressed her smooth body against his lithe form. Adelaide felt hard muscles and a demanding throbbing in his chest. His body seemed to be on fire. His fingers rose, and she watched them until they disappeared behind her head, stroking and caressing her hair like he had just done to the horse.

"Do not fear me," he whispered huskily to her. "Do not fear what I am doing. I only want to know you better, my lady. Relax. Let me touch you."

She had never felt this sort of possessive, commanding, hard-as-rock sort of love. It felt strange and alien, but not altogether unpleasant. Frodo never did this, never held onto her with such firm hands, never looked into her eyes like Clark Gable into Vivien Leigh's at that sunset moment…wowowowow, and Frodo never, ever pressed her like that up against a wooden pillar, heart beating so strong and so—

_Oh God, what is this why is this happening what is going on..._

_Let him, Oh God, I miss physical affection, let him do it…_

_No, you slut, you whore, you little cheat, get AWAY FROM THE ELF, NOW!_

He could feel her naked form against his body. He could feel her heart, throbbing and blending with his, suggesting intercourse. He could feel her hair, as soft as he had desired it to be; her body, smooth and soft like milk, and her life beating near to his heart. His fingers threaded in and out of her hair, and then started to trace her jawbone, so pretty and well-defined. His fingers dared to touch her lips. They seemed to call out to touch his own.

"Ah, lady, lady, what I would give for what you have…let me know you, lady, let me feel you, touch you, be everything to you…tip your chin to my face, hold me, lady, let me be sweet to you."

_Powerful, masterful, totally in control; seductive, handsome, waiting, there for you because you miss physical affection; you miss the—_

_No!_

_Frodo! I love Frodo! What the fuck am I doing here? Oh God, get him away from me! Let go of me or I will send you straight to hell!_

Bringing one hand up behind her back, he pressed on her spine gently, causing her no pain, but gently bending her body back. Her hand reached up quickly to touch him. He leaned his head down. _Yes, yes, lady, yes, touch me and feel me, know me and stroke me…_he hardly dared to breathe. His lips were only millimeters away from hers, throbbing to touch and taste her. Adelaide's hand caught up near his golden head. A faint flutter of fingers danced on his pointed ear…and then the spell snapped.

"NO! You bastard! You keep away from me! I don't love you!"

Adelaide suddenly jerked out of his arms and whipped her hand out, slapping Legolas soundly across the cheek. The sound snapped like a whip through the stables. The Elf, astonished, put one hand up to his stinging cheek, staring at Adelaide in shock. Never before had he seen her so alive, so motivated, and so murderous. She looked as if she wanted to kill him.

_Why can't I hurt him like the last time? Why am I struggling? What is this inside my head that won't permit me to hate him as before?_

_Am I really angry with him?_

_Did I like it?_

_Are you just a false poser of modesty? Wow, since when did your southern regions turn to gold?_

She blocked out Adelard's harsh words of condemnation and shook her head, trying to get rid of the harsh mental image drawn up. Legolas stared at her as her bottom lip quivered. Ah, she was ashamed, she was tearing herself up inside. Something was there. Her devotion to the silly country hobbit was strong, but he would break that down, make her see reason. But Adelaide was beyond that now. Guilt stabbed her inside as she turned and ran.

"Adelaide, you're so romantic," gushed Eowyn, as Adelaide mumbled the story out to her. "Making love in the stables! That is very original."

"It's bullshit!" Adelaide cried. "I don't like him at all, and I went and flaunted myself like a—"

Eowyn covered her mouth. "Shhh-hh. Don't let the maids hear you. You're not what you think, Addy. Of course he's handsome…and flirting is natural. You said it yourself, once. Girls are supposed to flirt. It's healthy."

"Not this kind," Adelaide's eyes were red from crying. "I have Frodo, and he ought to be enough for me. I'm not, like, sexually starved, or anything…maybe…I don't know! I'm so fucking confused!"

"Well, don't let it bother you too much," Eowyn said lightly. "We've things to do today." She gently hugged her friend. "Come. Stay with me today. We'll ignore the Elf, if that's what you want. He ought to have been more chivalrous, after all!"

Adelaide still felt miserable. She didn't want to explain the double feeling of that horrible dawning...the fact that she could not make him hurt. There was a frightening sense of the fact that perhaps she was weakening in her hatred of him...perhaps even falling in love with him...but she did not want that! She only wanted to be with Frodo, and knew she would have to fight...but this fighting was not what she'd expected. And really, the last thing she needed was for her mind to be provoked. It probably was not a good idea to beat anyone up just now, especially when there was so much happening.

The girls were at the corridor. No one was around. Giggling, they agreed to race.

"One for the money…two for the show…three to get set…and—"

Adelaide was going to say "GO!" but unfortunately Aragorn stepped out of the shadows and grabbed onto her shoulder.

"There will be no running in this house," he scolded. Adelaide stared at him.

"Wow, aren't we cheerful today?"

Aragorn gave her a look. "You should be ashamed, young lady, for trying such boyish, childish games, and so early in the morning. You are too old for such nonsense."

"Oh shut your face, Grumpy. You're just—" Adelaide's mouth snapped shut in bewilderment as Aragorn gave her a stern glare. Eowyn straightened up and stared at him, defensive of her friend.

"How dare you order her in my uncle's house! As long as I am the niece of King Theoden, I have a right to say what she can and cannot do," she said haughtily. "We were only going to race down the corridor. There can be no harm in that, can there be?"

"Lady," said Aragorn softly. "But not so early in the morning." He nodded at them both, and then bowed. Adelaide made a face after him.

"Boy, is he grumpy. I'll have to cheer him up, later. I can't understand it, though. He's even jesting during battle. Maybe it's the tension."

"Is he so very proud?" asked Eowyn thoughtfully. "He seems rather grim."

"He's got his moments. He's a real sap; did you know he wants to adopt me? I've got him for a dad, Gandalf for a grandfather, Eomer for a brother, and you for a sister. What more could I want?"

"You need the Elf," teased Eowyn. "He must be terribly mad over you. I wish I had such a knight."

"Eowyn, you'll always have your knights," laughed Adelaide. "Including one Grima Wormtongue."

"Ugh! Adelaide, please! Don't even think that!" grimaced Eowyn, and then giggled. "Can you see him in armor?"

"No, I can't," Adelaide giggled back. "That'd be really funny. Canned Worm! For _fishing_!"

The two girls chatted on their ways down to the dining hall. When they arrived, Theoden was eating with Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli, along with several other members of his court. The guards were at another table. The girls plopped themselves down at another empty table. Meals were set before them.

Legolas said nothing. He only looked at Adelaide, his face quiet. She tried not to look at him, but when she did, her eyes met his, and he seemed to try and probe into her thoughts. Adelaide said nothing. She knew that she had let things go too far. She had been nice to Legolas, and looked what had happened. He had openly assaulted her in the stables, like a commoner at Bree.

_But you liked it._

_No, I didn't. It was uncomfortable._

_Bullshit, and you know it. He was being as gentle as an Elf could possibly be._

_I didn't like it._

_Don't be an idiot. You liked it._

_I did not._

_Liar._

_Liar yourself._

_Little Bitch. _

_Don't be disgusting! I love Frodo._

_Sort of…kind of…right? _

_That's a lie!_

_See if I'm wrong. A fellow half your size! Come on, Adelaide, he isn't one hundredth of what Legolas is. You know that Legolas isn't like Frodo. Frodo's soft and tender, and Legolas is harder than a hot-baked brick. Admit it, you want to know what he's like in bed._

_That's not true! It's a lie! Frodo loves me! I love him! Every inch of him! _

_Right, sweetheart. Legolas has got more inches, doncha think?_

_I'm not listening to this! I am not going to listen to this! I am not going to listen to this! Iamnotgoingtolistentothis…_

"Adelaide? Wake up," said Eowyn, snapping her fingers in front of Adelaide's face. Adelaide jumped.

"Wha…huh? What'd you say?"

Chuckles.

"I am trying to instruct you," Aragorn said sternly. "Since we are all to go to Helm's Deep, we need every available person to help. You will be under Theoden's orders, as he is the king here, but as long as you are part of the Fellowship, you must abide by what I say first. Do I make myself clear?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then you must start today. It is high time you began looking at your station properly, as a woman, and no longer this silly little girl of ages past. A woman must help with the food and the sick. You, Eowyn, and the other maids will be assigned to your place in the Deep, and if I hear that you have abandoned your post, it will be shame upon your head and mine. So do Rohan a favor, lady, and mind yourself."

Adelaide's mouth dropped. Aragorn had never spoken to her in that tone before, and never had she felt such shame burn in her cheeks. She wanted to melt into the floor. Eowyn, feeling very uncomfortable and awkward, said nothing. There was a silence. Then Adelaide stood up, pressed her lips together, and left the table and the room. A second later, Eowyn followed her best friend.

"It's foolishness!" snapped Gandalf to Aragorn, later on, as they trudged together toward the stables. The issue of the Helm's Deep order was being given out, and the wizard was furious. Obviously he did not like the idea of going to Helm's Deep. "They run to the caves and hide in cowardice when they should stand and fight!"

"Theoden is their king. He is only doing what he feels is right for his people," said Aragorn glumly. He indeed wished that Theoden was not doing what he was. He was inclined to trust Adelaide's story about the suicide trap.

Gandalf went on talking to Aragorn as they entered the stables. Adelaide and Eowyn were already there, taking care of the horses. Shadowfax was in his box, snorting and tossing his proud, silver head. Gandalf came to him, and stroked his head and neck. He spoke long and feelingly to the horse. Adelaide came up to him timidly.

"Gandalf," she said. "Please don't be angry. It's all for the best, seriously."

"I don't want to hear about it," the wizard snapped. "You focus on keeping your mouth shut. Little girls should be seen and not heard, and we hear your voice far too often!"

"But I'm just trying to help!"

"You can help by doing what you're told!" Gandalf said sternly. He was giving her one of his looks that always made her shut up. No one was being very understanding anymore.

Gandalf mounted Shadowfax, and spoke to Aragorn. "I shall be back on the morning of the fifth day," he said. Aragorn opened the stall door for him, and the white rider shot out, urging Shadowfax into a gallop. All made room for the wizard as he thundered past them, and out into the open sunlight. It was moments before he disappeared over the hill.

A sharp horse neigh caught Adelaide's attention, and she saw a horse being quieted by the guards. The guards were trying to calm it down, but it reared, and snorted. It would not let anyone come near it, and finally, the guards gave up, cursing. But Aragorn neared the horse, and stroked it. Surprisingly, the horse allowed him to come near, and touch him. Eowyn glanced at Aragorn.

"That is Brego," she said softly. "He was my cousin's horse."

"Brego," said Aragorn, and switched to the tongue of Rohan. "You have a kingly name." Then he turned to the guards, taking off the halter. "Let him go. This fellow has seen enough of war."

Brego shot out of the stables, as Shadowfax had done, and whinnied in his excited freedom. Eowyn stared at this magical man. It didn't matter what Adelaide said about him. He was magic to her; a real enchanter, and a very handsome one at that!

"Who are you?" she asked. "I look for magic among the Elves, but I did not expect to find it in a Ranger from the North."

"I lived in Rivendell for a time," said Aragorn, a little embarrassed. Eowyn's eyes were shining.

"Rivendell? That is an Elven city, is it not?"

Aragorn mumbled something in reply, something that Adelaide could not hear. But she could definitely tell that something was up between her friend and Aragorn. It didn't seem right.

Later on, as Eowyn packed up a trunk, she came across a sword inside its sheath. A strange feeling came over her as she picked it up and looked long and lovingly at it. In her hands, it seemed to come alive, and she unsheathed it. It was an excellent blade. She turned, posing with it in the correct manner, and then started to swing it about with expertise. There was no one else around, and she reveled in imagining a really gross orc in front of her, hacking at her, and trying to kill her. She was on the verge of killing it, when she turned, and her blade met another steel.

Aragorn held her pose for some time. "You have some skill with a blade, my lady," he said softly. Eowyn's eyes went really wide, and she swung her sword around, angry with him for ruining her game. Then she dropped her defenses.

"Maidens of the Hall are taught the skill as well as men," she said. "Long ago, even the women were taught that those who do not wield a sword perish by it. I fear neither pain, nor death."

"What is it you fear, Lady?" asked Aragorn, curious. Eowyn was like no other maiden he had met, but still, he was reminded of Arwen, whom he loved. This would be, he thought sarcastically, just great it this maiden fell in love with him. But yet he was very curious. Eowyn turned to him, and he saw a light of courage in her eyes.

"A cage," she said. "To stay behind bars until rust and old age accept them."

"Oh, lady!" said Aragorn. He was protesting. Surely not this woman! "You are a shieldmaiden of Rohan. A daughter of kings! I do not think that will be your fate."

Eowyn stared at him. The morning chill had seemed to defrost a little, and she looked upon Aragorn as a lover does. But there was knowledge and adoration in her eyes, for Aragorn was telling her what she really wanted to hear: acceptance, love, and courage. He was offering her friendship, in a funny sort of way. She could not say otherwise. And then, before her eyes, he turned and left, and there was Adelaide, right in front of her.

"Talk about me having a crush; I think I know someone who does," she chuckled. "Eowyn, you've gone head-over-heels for Aragorn."

"I have not," Eowyn replied, but her hair hid her face, and she was blushing furiously. Adelaide put her hands on her hips.

"Uh-huh. If you're not in love, then I'm a tater-tot. You've got all the symptoms."

"I have not."

"Look, you're blushing, stupid. It's not a crime to be in love with a handsome guy."

"Is he not handsome?" asked Eowyn.

"If you say so." Adelaide could never see Aragorn as Prince Charming, but then, every girl's taste was different.

Eowyn turned. "I cannot see how you could pass over his beauty," she said softly. "He is noble, a kingly man in every way. Do you think he notices me, Adelaide?"

"He's got a girlfriend," she said, pointedly. Better to spill the beans now, than have heartbreak and aches later. Eowyn's entire figure drooped.

"Does he?"

"Yeah, an Elf."

To her amazement, Eowyn cheered up. "An Elf!" she said. "Well, he must see how silly that is, right? I mean, Elves live forever. He cannot possibly live with her forever. And Elves are so high above mortals. It's not possible. Surely she doesn't love him, does she?"

The irony of the entire situation made Adelaide want to keel over with laughter. But she trod carefully. After all, Aragorn had tried to tell Legolas about Frodo. She could do as much for him, and tell Eowyn about Arwen.

"I think she does," she said lightly. "I mean, they've been lovers for a while."

"Lovers?" Eowyn giggled. "I cannot believe that at all. Elf women are hardly passionate, or so 'tis said. What's the most that they've done? Probably just held hands."

"They've kissed."

"Really!" Eowyn tried to toss her head. "I'll bet she doesn't know what real kissing is, eh, Adelaide? Do you think he could ever possibly be interested in me?"

"No. Now give me a hand with the trunk."

Eowyn laughed and helped Adelaide. But the minute the girl's back was turned, the princess of Rohan was off searching for the man of her dreams, probably in order to make him notice and be interested in her. Nothing Adelaide could say or do could make her come back. Adelaide put her hands on her hips.

"Oh, fuck. I've got to have a chat with Aragorn."

"With whom?" Aragorn stepped out behind her. Adelaide whirled, and glared.

"Dude! Don't do that! I need to talk with you. I don't suppose you've noticed it, but Eowyn's got a—"

"I have no time for this," said Aragorn roughly and grabbed a random trunk. "Help me with this, maid. You are already in enough trouble."

Adelaide's eyes went really big. What had she said? What had she done? Why were they all being so mean to her, all of a sudden? She thought she could trust Aragorn. Why wasn't he being kind to her, as he usually was? She lifted the trunk, with Aragorn's help, and carried it out to the little caravan that was being loaded. She packed it on, and then went in search of Eowyn. But Aragorn pulled her back.

"Oh no you don't. You are staying with us; and you are not to go wandering off any more. This is serious business, Adelaide, and you need to concentrate."

"I am concentrating," said Adelaide, jerking out of his grasp. "Boy, are you grouchy! What is your big issue? Don't you trust me?"

"No, I do not. This is no time for girlish giggling; this is time for packing. You must stay on a watch, Adelaide, and help the older folk. Hurry, now."

Adelaide felt tears well up in her eyes. She was being treated like a child, and she didn't like it. But she only silently obeyed the Ranger. All around, people were packing their belongings, and leaving everything that could possibly be spared. She helped the older couples with their food bags and their clothing articles, talking to them and soothing them in their distress. She tried to avoid Aragorn. But he would catch her and give her something to do. Adelaide was kept very busy, and it would have been alright if Aragorn had stopped treating her like a child. She felt humiliated and crushed. No one was listening to her. Gandalf was mad at her. Frodo was far away. Merry and Pippin were somewhere else, oblivious to all of this. Aragorn and Theoden were against her. Legolas was…well, she didn't know what he was, except a sex-crazed bastard who was probably off somewhere mooning over her. Gimli hadn't spoken to her that day. And Eowyn was going crazy for Aragorn. Adelaide felt that she couldn't handle it all.

"I wish I were back home," she muttered under her breath. "I'm not treated like a two-year-old over there."

Meanwhile, Frodo and Sam had been going uphill and down, following Gollum. They were now entering fairer grounds; there was more sunlight here, trees grew, and there was a bubbling brook nearby. Into this brook, Gollum squealed and scrabbled, trying to catch the fish. They were very slippery, however, and most of them got away from the clutching hands. Sam was still thoroughly disgusted with him, and did not trust the creature one bit.

"Hey Stinker! Don't go too far!" he called harshly. Frodo stopped and turned.

"Why do you do that?" he asked, facing Sam.

"What?"

"You know what I mean. Call him names, run him down all the time."

Sam was confused. He didn't know if his master was already being lured by the ring, or whether Gollum was having an effect on him. But this was not the Frodo he had known. It was an older, somewhat more mature Frodo, and he was acting his age now. "Because!" he said. "That's what he is, Mr. Frodo. There's nothing in him but lies and deceit!"

"What do _you_ know about it?" snapped Frodo. "Nothing! You don't know what it did to him, Sam. You don't know what it's still doing to him. I can still save him, Sam."

"But why?" Sam was confused and hurt.

"Because I have to believe he'll come back," said Frodo. Sam started to protest, but Frodo cut him short.

"You don't know anything about it, Sam! So be silent!"

Sam felt tears sting his eyes. Pushing them away, he started to walk forward again, with a resolute mind.

Frodo stopped short. From behind, he had almost felt a kind of rebuke. Deep in his heart, he felt the pain and the suffering, and realized what he had said and done.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said softly. "I don't know why I said that."

Sam stopped and turned. "I know why, Mr. Frodo," he said. "It's the Ring. I've seen you. You can't take your eyes off it. You barely eat. You barely sleep. You have to fight it—"

"I _know_ what I have to do, Sam," snapped Frodo. "The Ring was entrusted to me! It was given to me. It's my task, mine, my own!"

"Can't you hear yourself?" begged Sam. "Don't you know what you're saying?"

Frodo did ponder on what had been said. He regretting snapping at Sam, but he did not regret the words spoken. He did want to help Smeagol, and Sam knew nothing of the situation anyway.

He reached for the locket at his wrist. Adelaide's face smiled back at him, and suddenly, it was the most comfort the hobbit could have received right then and there. His finger touched the picture; he tried to stroke her hair. Everything was coming back to him about Adelaide…the touch of her skin, the fine luxurious hair she had, the beautiful eyes, and the exciting way she snuggled up with him in the bed.

"_Post-moderns," she liked to say. "Enjoy sex. We really do. Sex sells, it's all over the media, and you can't even look at a daffodil without thinking naughty thoughts…"_

"_You do this?"_

"_No. I look at daffodils and think of Easter. But I once knew a guy who thought of something else, let me tell you!"_

"_And what do you think about, lovey?"_

"_Dinosaurs, classical music, sea monsters, floral arrangements, polymer clay, giant walruses, Rembrant—"_

"_Stop, stop!" he laughed. "I thought you might talk to me about…well, your fantasies."_

"_My fantasies?"_

"_Have you any?"_

"_Hm. Maybe. Blindfold me."_

_She had tricks up her sleeve and marvelous delights everywhere else. He found her as a multi-faceted diamond, with a playful side, a sexy side, a downright horny side, a cuddly side, and a wicked-naughty side. She never failed to please him or surprise him. She, in turn, was fascinated by him. She couldn't help but be. It flattered him, made him feel so strong and incredible when she looked at him with eyes that saw him for the first time as Nature made him. The way she had to run her fingers over the muscles of his arms and legs, and breathe heavily because she found him so wonderful, and there would never be another. _

_He could only look at her and marvel at Eru's creation. But she had a voice, and she used it._

"_This is the most beautiful experience of my life."_

Funny how a mere memory made him so hard he could barely contain himself. It was only by the slightest recollection of her face in ecstasy that Frodo gasped and grabbed at the ground to control himself, cutting his hand accidentally on a sharp rock. Heat flooded his brain.

He missed her so much.

Adelaide did not get a chance to visit Frodo that night. She was kept thoroughly busy, especially by Aragorn. Even when everyone else had gone to sleep, she was kept up washing dishes, packing up last-minute articles, and cleaning floors. Gimli finally begged for her to go to sleep, but Adelaide did not want to go. She was tired, but she was also very angry, and her pride would not allow her to do otherwise. When at last all was finished, she moved to go to bed, but a hand caught her at the doorway. It had to be Legolas, and so it was. Adelaide did not have the heart to look at him.

"You are sad, lady," he said softly. "I can feel it of you. You have not had a very good day, I fear. Please, sit down. Speak to me. What troubles you?"

Adelaide sat down beside Legolas and looked at his face. He was dead serious. He just wanted her to talk, and he wanted to listen. It seemed so long since someone had really heard her out like that. She let herself soften, and she sighed.

"I just feel misunderstood today…like…Eowyn's nice, she's a good friend, but we haven't had a good chance to really have a good, solid conversation. And Aragorn's pissed at me, and I don't even know what I did. Gandalf's ticked because I'm supporting King Theoden. He wouldn't even talk to me today. I haven't had a chance to speak to anybody I know…I just feel…I dunno. Maybe I'm selfish for wanting all that, but I can't help it."

Legolas wished that mortals, and especially mortal women, were not so difficult to understand. For the first time, Adelaide had spilled her guts to him in a very real way, looking for comfort, sympathy, or at least advice. Now he wished to heaven he could give it to her. But he wasn't sure how. The look of struggle on his face made Adelaide hesitate before looking at him more straight-forward for a reply.

"I know not why Aragorn is upset, but I know it has nothing to do with you personally. He loves you very much and would never hurt you. He is simply frustrated right now."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I have never seen him like this." Legolas shrugged, and Adelaide smiled.

"How're you?"

"What?"

"You. I mean, how are you doing?"

Miracle of miracles! She had asked him a personal, polite question! Legolas could have floated away. "Much better, lady. I am pleased…no, I should say that I appreciate your kindness to me today…I mean, right now. I was not certain whether to speak or leave you alone. But something told me you needed to…to…to vent."

Adelaide chuckled, and Legolas nearly melted. The love of his life was chuckling because she found his statements endearing! How far could he push her?

"Will you take an Elvish dream, lady?" he asked carefully.

"What's that?"

"Nothing harmful," he said truthfully. "I wish to let you fold yourself into the most peaceful of rests. Let me impart a sweet dream to you. Nothing…nothing you might not want," he added hastily. "If you like, I shall give you a dream of the Eldar days."

"I don't think you're serious. Elves can't do that…can they?" She looked up into his eyes. Legolas smiled at her and took her hand.

"Maiden, may I?"

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"May I?"

Adelaide stared at him. He was serious. But she did not know how or what to do. She was totally unprepared for Legolas' next move. He took a firm hold of her shoulders, looked her up and down, and then pressed her to his body. Ever so gently, he pressed his lips to her forehead, and planted an Elvish kiss there. Adelaide stood stock still. His lips were warm and very, very smooth, gentle and pretty. She felt his nose on the top of her hairline, and could feel the little winds of his breath in and out of his nose in her hair. Confusion writ itself over the girl's face, struggling between pulling back and giving in to the new, excited feelings racing through her veins. He watched her face as it twitched and then was still. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, and then she stared right back at him. The warmth of his kiss remained upon her forehead, and for a moment, Adelaide wished that he would do it again. His hands were so gentle, and the scent of his body, so close to hers, was making her dizzy.

Legolas smiled at her, and supported her. "Do not fall, maiden," he said gently to her. "Sleep now. And do not let the day fall upon your anger. I know in my heart that you will be in healthy spirits tomorrow…whatever it holds, my lady…my sweet lady."

He had gone too far. Adelaide pulled from him, her brows knit together in sudden frustration and real confusion. Legolas watched her stumble back to her room, feeling her anxiety and distress, but knowing, at the same time, that he had struck deep and was making an impression upon the girl. Then the Elf turned to go back to his room for sleep. The day had been very rewarding. Each hour brought him closer to his beloved, and he knew that he would have her yet. As he laid his fair head upon the pillow, Aragorn came into the room. One look was enough to tell him that Adelaide, and she was no longer giving the Elf a rough time.

"I deduce you're succeeding at making friends," he said dryly. Legolas smiled, and nodded.

"She is warming very well. I did not expect her to move so quickly. From Lothlorien, it seems, she has had a better heart than before it."

"I've seen it," Aragorn sighed. "Legolas, do you think I was wrong in what I did today?"

"You've not physically hurt her. And can I hold you responsible fully for whatever troubles your heart? You may keep that to yourself. But you greatly confused her."

"Adelaide must be furious with me," Aragorn looked worried. Adelaide really was a good girl; he didn't know what had gotten into him, but he had been working her all day, and had not been very kind to her. He didn't like to think of himself as a bully. The tears in Adelaide's eyes had told him otherwise.

"She went to bed with a lighter heart. She felt the world against her today," Legolas replied.

"I only wanted her to attend to serious matters. She treats these issues, sometimes, as if they were nothing!" Aragorn argued. "It's time she learned to behave like a rational woman, instead of an irrational child."

"You know, for being the smartypants know-it-alls," growled Gimli from his cot. "The two of you are the most thick creatures I've ever come across. You act like you know Addy inside out; well, the two of you must be brain-dead not to realize that Adelaide's _lonely_. Have you forgotten that the last female she saw was in Lothlorien? She left all her close friends behind in the Shire, barely made any new ones in Rivendell, and then could only bow and speak politely to the Lady Galadriel. A bunch of males have been her only close companions for months on end now, and she's tried to be helpful and friendly in every way, but the minute she wants to hang out with her girl-friend Eowyn, the lot of you are down her throat and treating her like a five-year-old child! I can only imagine what that poor young woman must be feeling right now. Aragorn, she thinks the world of you, and you bullied her into next year. Legolas, she wants nothing to do with you, and you won't stop pestering her. And as for Gandalf—he's grumpy around her because he's afraid he'll lose her. But the lot of you need to shut up and let her alone. She's a big girl, and can take care of herself!"

Aragorn and Legolas stared slack-jawed at their smaller, hairier comrade. Since when had Gimli become an expert of post-modern women?

"Alright, alright," sighed Aragorn. "I had forgotten that Adelaide is a young woman, with needs and concerns. My study has not been women."

"Huh, well, you call yourself a father! You'd better learn about 'em fast, if you want to officially adopt that girl."

_Bloody Running Dreams. _

_But now she was with Frodo and Sam and Gollum, and the two hobbits were sleeping in some ancient ruins. Frodo's hand was curled tightly about the Ring, as if to hold it close to him forever. Adelaide pouted. It should have been her close to his heart; her hand should have been in his, and her body should have been near to his, keeping him warm and comforting him. The Ring was cold and cruel. Even if it had a will, that will was nothing more than stone and flint. It was not a comforting thing._

_Off by himself, Gollum was sitting on a ledge, and he was having an interesting conversation with himself. Adelaide walked over and sat down near to listen to him. He sniffed the air a couple of times, but there wasn't much he could grab at; she was invisible to him. But she liked listening in on conversations. And so she would._

"We wants it, we wants it! We needs it! Must have the precious, _gollum, gollum_! They stole it from us, the sneaky little thieveses!"

"No," said the other side, which was Smeagol. "Not…master."

"Yes, precious," pouted Gollum. "First they cheat you, then lie, then steal! All peoples who keep the precious! All sneaky, little, thieveses!"

"Master's my _friend_!"

"You don't have any friends!" sneered Gollum. "Nobody likes _you_."

"Not listening!" Wide-eyed, Smeagol put his hands over his ears.

"You're a liar! And a thief!"

"No." Smeagol grinned at his invisible twin.

"_Murderer_!"

_Gads, that single word. It's enough to make anyone afraid and helpless. And the way he says it…but he has come to grips with himself. He knows he's a murderer. Is he then proud of it? I don't get it. _

"I hate you!" sniffed Smeagol. "I hate you!"

"Where would you be without me?" growled Gollum, as angry green glints appeared in his eyes like flame.

"Go _away_!" Smeagol cried.

"Go away!" snickered Gollum, mimicking himself. "You wouldn't have got far without me! We survived because of me!"

"But not…anymore," said Smeagol, suddenly lighting up, as if he just had a great revelation. Gollum stared.

"What…what did you say?"

"Master takes care of us now! We don't need you anymore!"

"What?" Gollum was puzzled and stupefied.

"Leave now, and never come back!"

"_What_?"

"Leave now, and never come back!"

"Aghhhhhhhhhhhh!"

"Leave now, and…never…come…BACK!"

Smeagol stopped. All around, there was quiet, and Gollum seemed to be totally forgotten, or either lost. But Smeagol (as he shall be called now) ultimately did not care. His face lighted up, and he seemed so happy that he forgot to be quiet.

"We told him to go, precious!" he cried ecstatically. "And away he goes!"

He hopped down and began to dance madly about.

"SMEAGOL'S FREE!"

_Oh._

_Well._

_That was interesting. Probably the best running dream yet. Hooray for Gollum—I mean, Smeagol! Break out the champagne and let's play the disco! Tango, everyone! Mazel Tov!_


	8. ACaravanning We Will Go

Chapter 8

A-Caravanning We Will Go

**I truly had fun with this chapter. I apologize for the late posts…I have been very busy trying to find a job (with any luck, all the high-school students will finally go back to school and leave open positions…no offense, high-school students). No luck yet.**

**BTW, I realize that the preparations for Helm's Deep probably didn't take this long…but I wanted to drag it out a wee bit just to add some body to the story…show what Aragorn is like in a bad mood, and thicken the plot between Adelaide and Legolas. Die-hard Tolkien fans…forgive another fan her whims.**

**This is the chapter where, finally, the heroine gets herself into deep shit, and it's actually all her fault.**

In the morning, Adelaide was definitely in better spirits, and she hugged Aragorn just to prove it.

"What's this for?" asked Aragorn, as Adelaide wrapped her arms around him.

"For being such a fun guy," laughed Adelaide. "Good morning, Aragorn! Having coffee or tea? Eowyn and I have decided that we're going to play touch-tag today. We're totally going to wind ourselves up and let loose, and then we're going to find random men and cause scandal."

Aragorn watched in astonishment as the two girls raced off to help the caravan move out.

She and Eowyn were really a fine team together, Aragorn had to admit. They worked better together, and harder, it seemed, than all the rest of the people put together. Once the caravan was underway, the two girls continued to help others along, and made sure everything was running smoothly.

Gimli was mounted upon Arod (by himself) to try and learn how to ride, while Eowyn walked beside him. Aragorn walked beside her, but Adelaide walked in the back, and came up next to Legolas, kind of wanting to chat. She felt that, yes, it was time to be friendly, and try, at least, to be nice to him, as long as she didn't fall in love.

"Hi," she said, smiling up at him. "Can we talk?"

"Ah," the Elf smiled. "May I consider this an honor?"

"Oh, aren't we funny today. You said you wanted friendship. Well, I guess today's a pretty good day to try new things."

"Indeed! Very well, then, maiden, how shall we begin?"

Well, uh…how about telling me what it's like to be an Elf."

Legolas laughed, and Adelaide gulped. Wow. I mean, wow-wow-wow-WOW! He had a beautiful laugh, with perfect teeth, a joyful smile, and dancing eyes. His golden hair flashed in the sunlight, and suddenly Adelaide found herself really liking the Elf.

"Lady, I've never met so curious a person in my life. What is it like to be an Elf? The same as it is for you to be mortal."

"That says diddly-fucking-squat, and you know it."

"Do I?"

"You don't know what it's like to be mortal, and we're two separate species," she argued. "How can you know what it's like for me to feel mortal, as it is for you to feel immortal?"

"We feel ourselves to be what we are and what we are meant to be."

"Good God, all I want to know is if you've ever felt prejudiced or slighted because you live forever and have pointed ears."

"Ah, I see." Legolas considered a moment. "Do you mean…has anyone ever teased me for being an Elf?"

"Yeah. Something like that." Adelaide wondered if racism even existed in Middle Earth. Legolas pondered a bit, then shook his head.

"The only thing I was ever teased about was my fondness for animals," he said. "When I was a child, I brought almost every living creature into the palace. Father finally told me that if I didn't get rid of them, he would disown me."

"No way! Did he really?"

"Oh, yes. I believe I found one of the young spiders of the forest, and brought it home in a jar. I was interested in studying it. But Father caught me teasing it with a stick, and he kicked the spider into the fireplace. I was scolded rather severely."

The mental image was just too funny for words, and Adelaide doubled over, hooting with laughter.

"You…a softie for animals…and your dad…threatening that…disowning…holy shit, that's a riot! Did you ever keep any pets?"

"My father allowed me a hound to hunt with. But he's been dead for quite some time."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Adelaide apologized, truthfully. "Did you ever get another?"

"I'm afraid not. I had other things to concern myself with. My father had an arranged marriage settled for me, and there were other—"

"You're married?" Adelaide's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"No, I'm not," Legolas said calmly. "My fiancé wanted nothing to do with me."

"Really! Tell me about that. Why didn't she like you?"

"I imagine it was for the same reason you dislike me," Legolas said quietly.

"She hated Elves?"

"A group of them mistreated her when she was young," Legolas replied. "They were wild and reckless in their own youth, and treated her shamefully. I was not a part of their group, of course, but she swore she would never marry. I believe she loved me, in her own quiet way, but she would have none of me. She feared I might hurt her. She was torn in two, but she made her decision."

Adelaide was suddenly beet-red and ashamed that another girl's situation could so closely mirror her own. Except…she was not so afraid that Legolas would hurt her. They walked in silence for a bit, and then Adelaide blurted, "I'm not afraid of you."

"What makes you say this? I never said you were."

"Why did you tell me that story?"

"Because you wanted to know. I'm telling you the truth. Do you fear that there are similarities between her story and yours? They are nothing alike. My fiancé might have been a wonderful wife, but for that evil event in her life."

"One nasty event should not determine the fate of a person," Adelaide grated. Legolas looked keenly at her.

"No, my lady. It should not."

Rage flared up in Adelaide…rage because the damn Elf was getting the better of her. "Will you please stop calling me your 'lady'? Why do you do it? Just to piss me off, or something?"

"I say it because it is a mark of respect…because you _are_ a lady."

"No freakin' shit, Sherlock! Did you really figure that out all by yourself? Now, how about using my name once in a while?"

"I do not like your name." Legolas said it very flatly. Adelaide was immediately offended.

"What do you mean, you don't like my name?"

"It is not very graceful."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? It's plenty graceful!"

"Not according to Elvish standards."

"Well, wahoo! What are Elvish standards anyway? I'm not even an Elf, so your rules shouldn't apply to me."

"But they do."

"Yeah? Who says?"

"The laws of nature."

"Laws of nature my foot. There's human nature and Elven nature, and we're two different species. Quit acting like we're the same damn thing."

"But you must admit that nature claims I can have an opinion on one's name, and my Elven rules applying to your name happens to be my opinion. Am I not entitled to it?"

"Sure, but that doesn't give you the right to say it out loud. I happen to like my name, you inconsiderate jack-ass."

"Now, if you do not have anything nice to say, do not say it at all, lady."

"Okay, well, you come up with a different name then, and let me know when you've figured something out, and we'll use that, but for God's sakes, quit with the 'lady' nonsense. It's getting on my nerves."

"But you see, a name cannot make a person," said Legolas. "I do not care for such a name as you have been given. Neither do I like 'Feodral.'"

"I suppose 'Dragon' fits it better."

"Suppose it did?" Legolas, for the first time, flared at her. "If you'd like it to fit, lady, then it shall. I can't say as it would not. You are as wild and restless as the great Smaug, once upon a time! Though your heart cares not for gold, it craves another kind of hoard…that of attention. You are a stubborn, proud, willful child, and though so beautiful, you have the temper of even a thousand dragons, and fell beasts of the air on top of that! Would that I never meet you in battle, lady. An orc could not tame you, my lady, but instead a simple hobbit makes you hang your head and murmur meekly. A hobbit of lowly status makes you smile, but an Elf of Mirkwood is given a lashing tongue and a cold glance. Do you not know how much you hurt me?"

"Hey!" Adelaide stared at him. "Now who's getting all fucked up? I'm actually trying to be friendly, here! And you're getting pissed off because I don't like the fact that you call me 'lady' all the time! If I don't like it, what's the big deal? Just call me something else! Like, maybe, Elspeth. That's my middle name. Is that any better?"

"Why, I did not know you had a middle name like that," Legolas replied, surprised.

"You never asked."

"It's lovely."

"Glad you think so. Now, will you please call me by that name?"

"I shall try. But will you call me 'Legolas'? I should be honored to hear my name from your sweet lips."

"Okay, let's get another thing straight. We're friends. Not lovers. Not boyfriend and girlfriend. We're nothing more than friends, okay? If you press me anymore, I'll drop the friendship like a hot potato in summer. Got it?"

There was silence. Legolas watched her for a minute, and then said quietly, "Maiden, I wish I could understand you."

* * *

"It's true you don't see many dwarf women," Gimli said, speaking to Eowyn. "But oftentimes the women are often mistaken for dwarf men!"

Eowyn smiled and then turned her head to glance at Aragorn. He tried to look serious as he stroked downwards off his chin and mimed the words, _it's the beards!_ Eowyn bit her lip to keep from laughing and turned back up to Gimli.

"In fact, the women are so scarce that there has been rise to the rumor that there are no dwarf women! And that dwarves just…spring out of holes in rock!" he ended. Eowyn laughed. "Which is of course ridiculous—whoa, Arod!"

The horse had leapt out from under him and suddenly trotted forward at an alarming pace, throwing Gimli to the ground. Eowyn gasped and ran over to him, but Gimli tried to look like it was all part of a plan.

"Don't worry! Nobody panic. No assistance is necessary; it was deliberate, it was deliberate!"

And as Eowyn laughed and brushed the dirt off his back, she turned and looked back at Aragorn, riding with Theoden. Her hair blew in the wind like rays of sunlight, and her face was beaming with a countenance of joy any angel could envy. Her eyes lit and danced, and suddenly Aragorn thought her fair, fair as a lily in springtime, as one who has been chilled by frost but who is melting into a glow of pure radiance. Somehow, she bore a striking resemblance to Adelaide, but there was another in his heart, whom he loved as well. Arwen.

He sighed.

_The light of the Evenstar does not wax and wane…I give you this gift, Aragorn. It is mine to give to whom I will…like my heart._

Arwen Undomiel. Evenstar of her people. She was so lovely, pale and beautiful, the loveliest of creatures that now walked in the world. He wished, somehow, that he had her close by. Perhaps she would like to meet Eowyn. Though the two seemed so separate: twilight versus the morning sun…maybe one day their paths would cross anyway, and they could meet. He fingered the Evenstar lying close to his breast, and smiled back at Eowyn.

"I've not seen my niece smile for a long time," said Theoden softly. "She was but a young girl when they brought her father home, shot dead at the hands of orcs. She then watched her mother die of despair, and soon it was that she came to me, doomed to wait upon an old doddering man who should have loved her as a father." He sighed.

"Adelaide has told us much about her," Aragorn said. "I was honored to finally meet the lady of Rohan in person."

Theoden seemed greatly pleased by this.

* * *

Adelaide sat on a bucket, and rolled her eyes, wondering why in God's name she was allowing Legolas to braid her hair, just because he'd said that an Elven-style braid would look quite fetching.

The whole caravan had stopped for a small break anyway, and everyone was relaxing. Adelaide, sitting on her bucket, was not exactly relaxing, but what else could she do? Legolas quickly braided her hair and then left her head alone. "There! With your hair tied back like that, and out of your face, it's quite becoming. I must admit, I did not think ladies should ever tie their hair back, but you should show off such a clean, graceful jaw-line. The high curve is very much admired by Elves. It is a symbol of elegance."

She was ridiculously flattered, but still on guard. "Why do you play with me like that?"

Legolas cocked his head. "Play with you…like what? I don't understand."

"The hell you don't. Admit it. You're still on cloud-9 with me, and you think that because I'm talking to you, I'm falling in love with you."

The thought had indeed crossed Legolas' mind, but he didn't dare voice that opinion.

"Lady, I thought I told you already that I am pleased only that you've accepted my friendship at last. I said nothing about love."

Adelaide lifted her head a bit, scanning the Elf up and down. "You're an asshole."

"_Adelaide!_" Legolas' voice, shocked and hurt, was like a knife of pleasure. Adelaide grinned.

"So, you finally used my name. Good job."

"That was uncalled-for."

"Was it?" Her eyes bored into him. "You're the idiot who made it clear that you were in love with me."

"And I would like to know why you spurn me," Legolas snapped. "My love is honorable. If you could accept it, I would make you the happiest of women."

"Oh, bullshit. How do you know I'm not the happiest of women right now?"

"You've not yet sated my appetite."

"I don't care."

"You might, if you knew what I have to give."

"You have nothing to give worth my time of day."

"Lady, you would very well care, if I turned on another maid here in your presence."

"You flatter yourself."

"Not at all. Any maid would give of herself to me."

"Then why don't you bother them?"

"Because you are the only one here worth having."

Adelaide chuckled, and it occurred to Legolas that getting this girl into his bed was going to be a little more difficult than he originally thought. "Well! Aren't you the cream of the crop? And since when did I turn into Marilyn Monroe? I'll thank you to keep your pretty little paws to yourself. Thank you for the braid, though. That's really cool. And now, if you don't mind, I'm going to find Eowyn and start a game of zombie-tag. I'd get off that rock, if I were you. We'll probably use that as home base."

* * *

Aragorn was debating.

He was wondering whether to smoke a pipe or chew a piece of gum that Adelaide had given him earlier. But Eowyn came over and settled the debate with a bowl of something that didn't look quite cooked. She gave the bowl to Aragorn, and he smelled the contents. Yuck. Whatever it was, he hoped that she wouldn't actually ask him to eat it.

"I made some stew," she explained. "It isn't much, but it's hot."

"Thank you," said Aragorn, realizing that he'd have to taste it, manners or no. Eowyn was waiting for his pronouncement. He tried not to vomit.

"It's good," he lied, forcing a smile onto his face. Eowyn's face lit up.

"Really?"

Aragorn nodded. But while Eowyn turned her back from him for a moment, he started to pour the stew out.

All at once, Eowyn turned back to him, and he tilted the bowl back up to a normal position, spilling a deal of it on himself. He silently cursed, and tried to look innocent as she spoke.

"My uncle told me a strange thing. He said that you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather. But he must be mistaken."

Aragorn tried not to chuckle. "He is not mistaken," he said. "Your uncle has a good memory. I rode to war with your grandfather a long time ago; your uncle was only a child."

"Well then, you must be at least sixty!" Eowyn read his face. "Seventy? You cannot be eighty!"

Aragorn hated to burst her bubble, but truth was at hand. "Eighty-seven," he said. Eowyn's face betrayed her shock, and then she smiled.

"You are one of the Dunedain," she said. "A descendant of Numenor, blessed with long life. It was said that your race had passed into legend."

"There are very few of us now," Aragorn murmured. Eowyn's face took on a look of shock and apology.

"I'm sorry! Please, eat. I will find Adelaide; she and I still have much to talk about—"

"I think, my lady, that Adelaide is talking to Legolas."

"Oh? You know, she thinks he's cute," said Eowyn, smiling. "She just doesn't want to admit it."

"That I can readily believe."

Eowyn sat down beside him, tucking her legs up under her skirt like Adelaide was prone to do. "You know, she told me another strange thing. She said she had one of the northern short men as a lover. I could not believe it until she showed me a picture of them together. But I think she and the Elf make a better couple. If I were to have a lover, I believe I should want just such a one…handsome, caring, noble, and strong."

Aragorn looked at her. She did not speak directly to his face, but the words hit home. This was precisely why he'd been so grumpy yesterday. He felt, verily, that little Eowyn had fallen like a Balrog down Khazad-Dum, and she was so starstruck and love-sick that now she was going to be difficult to avoid. She was a beautiful woman, charming, and so affectionate. If Arwen hadn't existed, Aragorn might have been interested in the blonde babe from Rohan. As it was, however, Arwen did exist. And Frodo existed for Adelaide.

"Your knowledge of how relationships work is somewhat limited," he said carefully. "Adelaide did not make the choice on strength. You do not choose whom you fall in love with."

Eowyn shrugged. "Perhaps." She looked out over the encampment. "She seems engrossed with the Elf right now. I suppose I shall just have to catch her later."

"Farewell, Eowyn," said Aragorn, and watched as she tripped lightly down the hill to other people. He stroked his chin, deep in thought—again.

* * *

"And then he looked into my eyes and told me that one does not choose how or when to fall in love. Oh, Adelaide, it was as if he was teaching me!"

"I'd doubt the validity of his certification," Adelaide replied. Eowyn's eyes had more stars in them than the night sky.

"Do you know how old he is? He told me he was 87!"

"Really. So what else is new?"

"I made some stew; would you like some?"

"Eowyn, I hate to tell you this, but your cooking is the reason all the bugs have made a fifty-yard radius around this caravan."

"Alright," said Eowyn cheerfully. "Aragorn liked it."

"Aragorn was trying to be nice."

"By the way, he told me about the woman who gave him the jewel. His Elvish love." Eowyn looked positively triumphant. "He told me she's leaving Middle Earth, to Valinor. Is that not wonderful? I hope she does indeed go," she murmured, almost to herself. "To live forever must be a great thing, is it not, Adelaide? I know that I would give anything to trade places with her."

_I'll bet_, thought Adelaide glumly. "Yeeeeee-ahhhhhh," she drew out the word slowly and sarcastically. "Riiiiiiiiiiiight. I'm sure you would."

"Oh Adelaide, stop it! Wouldn't you like to live forever, too?"

"No. It would drive me crazy."

"Adelaide, do you think Aragorn likes me?"

"Well, sure. I mean, as a friend. You're pretty cool, and he wouldn't deny you friendship."

"But…but love?"

"How do I tell you things like that? You're in love with Aragorn, and all I can say is that you have a lot of high hopes, but maybe it won't all be in vain. If she does indeed go to Valinor, then you're basically free to fall in love with him."

"I've fallen in love already," said Eowyn, dramatically. "I shall never be the same. I am sure that his lady is off to the Havens, and Aragorn is free. How I love him, Adelaide! He is so beautiful, so noble, and kind, with a fair face, and a gentle, healing touch! How I wish that he would take my hand, at least, with kindness, and look upon me with as much love as I feel for him! Oh, Adelaide, promise me that not all is in vain!"

"Well, honey, I—"

"Oh, do say not all is in vain! There must be hope! Such a relationship cannot last, if it is long-distance, and with an Elf who is about to sail away forever!"

"There's nothing I could say to dissuade you, is there?"

"No," sighed Eowyn, going off into dream fits again. "I shall be quite content, if only I knew there was hope. How strong he is! I'll wager he could lift us both up in his—"

"Eowyn," Adelaide interrupted. "I hate to be a stick in the mud, but could you come down off cloud-9 long enough to play tag? Let's get some of the girls together and play just one game, while we're stopped."

The two of them dashed off in different directions to find their peers. But while Eowyn went one way, Adelaide went another, and nearly tripped over Aragorn, who, from her vantage point, looked like a rock, he was that quiet.

"Hey," she said. "What gives? Sitting in the middle of the road is for suicidal nincompoops, not hush-hush kings."

"I am pondering my issues."

"Hm. I noticed."

"Have you?"

"It's ridiculously obvious."

"How do I handle this one, Adelaide?"

"Huh, beats me. I'm having the same problems. Maybe we should both ditch our lovers and—I was just kidding!" she cried, exasperated. "Don't get mad at me! Good Lord, dating you would be like dating my dad. Ew, gross."

Aragorn laughed out loud. "That's rude. I wouldn't mind dating you, if you were older and less immature. No, I don't mean it like that! You're simply too bouncy for my taste."

"That's what Frodo says. He's very set in his ways, and at fifty…well, fifty is just not a very bouncy age. But Frodo's never been very bouncy anyway. Still, he thinks the world of me when I do bounce. Like, one time, he saw me cheering on a Red Sox game on my laptop, and he just stood there smiling. He thought I was hilarious."

"You ARE hilarious. Watching you reminds me of my own youth, in a way. Mother often told me I was a bouncy babe, until I accidentally fell down the stairs."

"Hm. I never did that. Eowyn and I are rounding up people to play tag. Would you like to come? Oh, sorry. Never mind. Probably a bad idea. Eowyn would probably try to find you and only you. My bad. Ignore me. I'm leaving now."

* * *

"You're an idiot." Gimli addressed Legolas. "I don't know why you're trying so hard, lad. You know she has a lover. You know they want to get married. And you're deliberately trying to break them up. Don't look at me for help. I'm on Adelaide's side."

"But do you not think that all's fair in love and war?" Legolas argued. "It might be different if she were married. I would never dream of coming between that union. But Adelaide has no binds right now, and is free to do as she wishes!"

"And she wishes you would drop dead," Gimli snorted. "Can't say I haven't wished the same thing myself. Your affections are making me sick."

Legolas rolled his eyes. He couldn't understand it. He had experience. He was of royal blood, an Elf of Mirkwood, and (he thought) handsome. What was there that he was missing? Though he had sworn to protect the hobbit, Legolas had never felt so much against another being. He struggled within himself with his promise made at council and the love he felt for this girl, who might love him if only the hobbit wasn't…around!

But he wasn't around! That was the thing! Legolas suddenly realized that with Frodo gone, Adelaide was being nicer and more loving to him (whether she thought so or not). He only had to press a little harder, and then…perhaps in time…

* * *

Just over the hill where the caravan had stopped, Gamling and Hama, the two trustworthy guards of King Theoden, stopped beneath a small knoll. They were scouting ahead for the caravan.

"Do you smell anything strange?" Gamling asked. "I smell something slightly foul upon the wind."

"That could be the king's niece's cooking you so happily gulped down without thought to what it was," Hama muttered. He reined in his horse and scanned the land. They were just over the hill from the encampment, and looking at the vast mileage between them and Helm's Deep. The fortress wasn't even in sight yet. Along the east bank was a canyon where ran a river, and the west bank was hemmed in by tall rocks and rolling hills. Between them lay the stretch of land, not hard to scout, and not hard to walk. It would be smooth sailing.

"Hey, don't crowd us! We're trying to hide!"

Hama and Gamling swung around. Adelaide and another young maiden were nestled beneath the knoll, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

"Feodral! What in Eru's name are you doing under there?" Hama demanded.

"We're playing zombie-tag. What does it look like we're doing? Don't give our positions away to Eowyn, alright?"

"Lady, you'd best come out of there and get back to the caravan. You're not to wander so far—"

"We're only on the other side of the fucking hill. Don't worry so much, Hama."

As she spoke, the horses suddenly shied away, nickering and pawing at the ground in restless fear.

"Something's not right," Gamling murmured. Hama frowned and sniffed the wind.

"Now I smell it. Valar, it smells like—"

But Hama never had a chance to say what he smelled, because a second later, something flashed from above, over the knoll. An orc-mace swung, and Hama was thrown to the ground, his leg broken beneath his horse.

Adelaide screamed.


	9. Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen

Chapter 9

Nobody Knows The Trouble I've Seen

**Okay, here's the chapter that worried me quite a bit. It may seem very Mary-Sue-ish to have the heroine get captured by a bad guy, but I tried to pull it off as maturely as possible. Here are my reasons:**

**It's not right that Adelaide escapes ALL the time.**

**I wanted to show the results of her rather foolish behavior.**

**I didn't know what else to do with her while the war rampaged at Helm's Deep.**

**I hope the rest of this tale doesn't bore you to death.**

* * *

The scream reached the encampment before the warning cry from Gamling. Legolas heard its familiarity and jerked his head up. He was up and over the hill before the rest of the men, alighting on the grass just in time to see the warg turn and attack Hama, who lay helpless on the ground. Legolas strung his bow and quick as lightening struck the beast down, killing the orc-rider. He called back to Aragorn, "A Scout! There will be more!"

He couldn't have been more right. Wargs came pouring over the hills in front of the encampment, like ants swarming over a picnic. Suddenly, all was amiss within the camp. People packed up quickly and moved out as fast as they could. Theoden mounted his horse, yelling. Every able-bodied man went riding out. Old men and women screamed and panicked. Children were wailing, either from hunger or fright.

Eowyn, who was IT, and trying to find Adelaide and the other young ladies playing Tag, was caught in the middle of the fray, but she had the general idea: go fight the bad guys! (and do deeds unto renown!)

But Theoden caught her arm and told her to stay with the people. Eowyn alone had the pluck to challenge her uncle. "I can fight!" she cried, but Theoden would not allow it. "Please, you must lead the people to Helm's Deep…do this…for me," he begged, though he knew what a lame excuse that was. Eowyn held her tongue and nodded, watching her uncle riding out. But another figure was there. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, was in his saddle, looking for all the world like a scoundrel from the depths of hell, dashing, bold, and as if it were the last time they would ever see him, he turned and gave them one last glance. Time stood still, and Eowyn turned pale. Then the tide of people pushed them away, and Aragorn was gone.

* * *

Adelaide and her maiden friend were already on their feet, running back upwards to the hill, when another large warg leapt over the knoll and crashed down between the two girls, cutting off Adelaide's way. She pulled up sharp and, terrified, beat a hasty retreat backwards, the orc's sharp lance missing her by millimeters. A small group of wargs was closing in on her in a circle, and, on the ground, Adelaide couldn't do much. Her sword was back in the camp, and even if she did have it, she was too scared to remember what the hell to do. She did the only natural thing at that point: run like hell in a direction that didn't have a warg in it.

Which was difficult, considering that there were wargs all over the place.

Meanwhile, on the battlefield, Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn were having their own little workouts.

Gimli was having a tough time. He growled at a Warg, who looked up from its grisly meal on the ground. "Come on, send your pretty face into my axe, you ugly mutt!"

The Warg came right on, but before Gimli could smash the warg's skull, Legolas whipped out an arrow and shot the creature. Gimli huffed and glared at the Elf.

"That one counts as mine!" he roared.

The next warg that came took Gimli unawares; luckily, Aragorn was there to slice him down. But, being short, Gimli had the unfortunate luck to be prone to topsy-turviness, and tumbled onto his back, the dead Warg on top of him like a ton of sacked flour. An orc appeared over the dead body of the Warg, and raised his mace. Legolas shot him, and he fell on top of the already-pinned dwarf. Gimli let out a groan. A dwarf can handle only so much! But when a second Warg appeared, Aragorn slashed at him again, thus giving Gimli another weight to bear.

Legolas was aiding the men as much as he could. His arrows whizzed through the air, striking home, always, and killing more than one orc, always. He thought himself an excellent marksman. Then he noticed Aragorn. The Ranger was not having a very good day. Not only were there too few men to fend off the attack, but the Walking Information Center was in the thick of it. That damned girl was in trouble again, and she was in for a helluva lot more when Aragorn got his hands on her.

In Adelaide's defense, the book had said nothing about a warg attack, so feeling safe enough to play one game of tag hadn't exactly been her fault. But the thought of a very angry Aragorn flickered briefly through her head while dodging wargs to the best of her ability. Running blindly, she was getting further and further away from the hill where Eowyn and the rest of the encampment of Rohan was.

Stopping for a moment to grab a breath and her bearings was, quite possibly, the most foolish move of her life. She turned slightly to see where she was, and an orc rode up behind her. Before she could blink, he had reached down like Harrison Ford from his saddle, and grabbed the young woman, pulling her up in front of him with a very nasty leer. His face was questioning, uncertain, looking at her very closely while she stared back in fright, forgetting to scream. Then, as if decided, the orc howled in triumph, and started riding away.

Adelaide instinctively screamed and kicked, lashing out with all her strength, terrified of being carried off and either raped or killed in a deserted place. Then the orc struck her over the head, blood ran down into her eyes, and she blacked out.

Aragorn leapt up just in time to see the Warg rider dashing off with Adelaide. He was already so far away it would have been impossible to catch up. As the Ranger stood there numbly, another orc came riding up, and swung his mace. Aragorn caught it, and was swung up beside his foe, where they grappled there on the warg's saddle. The orc clutched at him, at his collar, trying to choke him. In his haste, he ripped off the Evenstar, the jewel given to Aragorn by Arwen, his beloved. Aragorn yelled and struck out. Little did either three of them know where they were headed. Both man and beast toppled backwards; the orc rolled over and over, and struck his head on a rock. But Aragorn's foot was caught in the stirrup. He was dragged brutally over the rough ground towards the edge of the plain, where a steep incline led to a canyon gorge, and the rushing river below. Without a rider to guide it, it's brain foaming inside with madness and fury and pain, the warg sailed off into space.

The rest of the wargs had run off. The weary men of Rohan, and the remaining Fellowship looked over the scene with bleak despair. Many lives had been lost, including Hama's. Theoden found him first, and wept silently over the door-warden who had been a longtime friend and valiant soldier. Gamling, who was still alive, checked the bodies for any sign of life. There was none.

Gimli, finally pulled free from the dog-pile, went around hacking out warg-brains to make sure they were all dead. Legolas went around collecting arrows to be cleaned and reused, if they were still good. Suddenly, Gimli called out, "Aragorn!"

No answer.

"Aragorn!"

Nada.

Legolas heard a chuckle behind him and turned. There on the ground lay a vile, stinking orc, its nostrils filled with blood and the life expiring out of it. In its hand it clutched something.

"You'll never see him again," it rasped. "He's dead! He took a little tumble off the cliff."

Legolas grabbed him and shook him. "You lie!" The orc only spit up blood, hacked, and then was silent. The Elf dropped him. His eye was caught by something sparkling in the orc's hand. Prying it open, he noticed the Evenstar, laying calmly and undisturbed in the palm of the loathsome creature. Alive or dead, the Ranger would want his beloved Arwen's jewel kept safe!

Pocketing the Evenstar, Legolas ran over to the cliff. Looking down, he saw nothing but rushing water and a dead Warg on the bank. Gimli, behind him, took off his helmet and sniffed. King Theoden also came up behind them.

"We must move on," he said. "Leave the dead."

Legolas turned to him, his eyes wide in astonishment. Leave the dead? Not hunt for Aragorn, who might still be alive? Even if he was dead…! Should they leave him? Theoden read the hurt in the Elf's eyes, and patted his shoulder, trying to find words for his new friend.

"I am sorry," he said gently.

They turned back to the camp, with grieving hearts.

But not one of them yet realized that Adelaide was missing.

* * *

Inside Helm's Deep, Eowyn was having much to put up with. There were starving children, uncomfortable women, and old men and the sick. She felt like a nursemaid, going around and caring for everyone and everything. She was having trouble getting things into order. The worst part of it all was that Adelaide hadn't shown up. She was probably helping somewhere else, but Eowyn was rather disturbed that she hadn't even come back from Tag to meet up with her, to let her know she was alright. Eowyn was somewhat worried.

She was relieved to finally see the men come in, as well as her uncle, safe and sound. But there was something wrong…

"So few," she said, looking for a few people in particular (we'll let you guess). Theoden turned to her.

"Let us be thankful! Our people are safe. We have paid for them with many lives."

"My lady." A voice at her elbow caused her to turn, and there was Gimli, helmet off and beard awry. There were tears in his eyes. Eowyn bit her lip.

"And the lord Aragorn?" she said slowly, as if frightened. "Where is he?"

"He…he fell," said Gimli, and then turned aside, ashamed of the tears that were welling up in his heart. Suddenly, the room spun, and Eowyn felt herself grow sick. She looked at her uncle, but his face, careworn and haggard, said nothing. She looked for sympathy and found little, save in the hug of an old woman, who knew nothing of the real case.

"Where is my lady Adelaide?" Legolas asked. "We must tell her of this loss."

Eowyn's heart stopped.

"I haven't seen her since we split up back in camp," she said. "I thought she was with you!"

"Nay," Legolas replied, feeling very uncomfortable. "She was beneath the knoll where the wargs attacked. I saw her running back to the camp, but I never saw if she made it up the hill. I was a little preoccupied. She has not come back?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"I tell you, I did not see her at all since the warg attack!" Eowyn insisted. "Where she is now, I do not know. We have to find her!"

Legolas started to move after her, but Gimli caught their arms. "Wait a minute," he said. "Let's keep our heads, at all costs. There's nothing to suggest that Adelaide was killed on the field of battle…we didn't find her body. She must be in the camp here somewhere. It's a big place. But we must tell the king, and let him know that Adelaide is missing. Ask if anyone has seen her. We must find her…if Aragorn's dead, and he finds out we've lost her, he might come back to haunt us all. And Gandalf will use Glamdring to have all our heads!"

* * *

Adelaide woke up with a splitting headache.

How long she'd been out of it, she didn't know. Her eyes fluttered dimly, unused to the lights that flickered coldly in the frigid room. Yes, it was a room, she could tell. She was laying on a rather drab bed, with freezing sheets and a single pillow.

Her head was wrapped in bandages. That felt stiff and uncomfortable, pressing around her skin like a vice.

She tried to move her lips. They felt cold and alien, as though they were not a part of her. The rest of her body felt as though it were floating. Then, as she became gradually awake, pain shot through her limbs as she realized that her entire body was a mass of bruises and sores. She felt like a deadweight. She could not move, and she didn't want to.

Well, if this was the operating room, maybe someone was about to fix her brain. That would be a welcome relief. No more nightmares about Rings and hobbits and evil monsters and annoying Elves—

No.

It wasn't a dream, and no one was going to operate on her brain. Where was she? Adelaide's head hurt, but she tried to remember what had happened. She got swept off her feet by the most un-charming of guys, carried off over the hills, and hit on the head…pain, and then darkness.

She opened her eyes again, and realized that someone was hunched over her. Oh, shit. That someone was awfully familiar…in fact, he was so familiar that, had Adelaide not been so delirious, she might have used the nearest candelabra to bash his nose into his eyebrow-less face.

Grima Wormtongue looked pleased, at any rate.

"Awake?" he sneered. Adelaide tried to speak clearly, though her tongue felt swollen and numb.

"Go 'way. Wha' the fuck're y'doin' here?"

His face pulled into an ugly grimace, and she patted herself mentally on the back. Score for the American.

"If anything, that orc's mace fell short of its mark; he should have struck off your tongue," he snapped. "A shame it's still in full commission. I will speak to Sauruman about that."

Sauruman!

So, she was a prisoner of the white wizard. Oh, things didn't get shittier than this. How was a twenty-three-year-old American college kid supposed to fare against an ancient, know-it-all Hitler with a magic wand?

Grima left her at that point, and she was free to start testing the limits of her bonds. There was no magic involved here, no sorcery or ingenious trick. She was simply just exhausted from the battle, and the concussion had been severe, though Adelaide had no doubt such a small thing might be healed for the wizard's convenience. He didn't need a brainless idiot for questioning; he needed her alive and whole.

Adelaide counted to three and wrenched herself up. The pain almost made her fall back down again, and her head swam. When her vision cleared, Adelaide counted to three again and got off the bed. The first thing she did was pay attention to her nether regions. Thank God that Sauruman was an old fart who probably had no interest in women, and Grima had eyes only for Eowyn…and thank God, again, that none of the orcs had touched her. Adelaide sighed in relief. The explanation to Frodo would have been a huge one.

As her body returned to its normality, Adelaide began to explore her room. Hey, if she was going to be a prisoner, she was going to make the best of it. The room that she was in was very large, with smooth stone walls, layered as fish scales. The whole room curved ever upward and she lost the ceiling. It ended only in a black hole. She was laying in a very cold bed. In fact, it was all very cold. The sheets were thin, and she shivered. It was not warm there. But she felt a warm draft from somewhere. She looked around, and then tried to move up. The strain took all of her efforts, and her back cracked with the effort, but when she had sat up, she tried to compose herself. Her head swam, and her vision blurred for only a moment before trying to figure out where the warm draft came from. The floor was cold, and the walls were cold, but as she moved around slowly, she could feel the draft getting warmer and warmer. She tracked it down to the far left wall.

Suddenly, the door swung upon, and a hideous orc poked his head in. "Up already, my pet?" he grinned. "There will be no sneaking around, you inquisitive little creature! Get away from that wall!"

Adelaide jerked away from the wall. Her heart pounded, frightened to be caught by a creature so foul. But the orc did not leave. It seemed almost as interested in her as she was in it. Gradually, she calmed down.

"Sorry," she said. "I was just looking around."

"Curiosity killed the cat, little kitten," the orc sneered. "Now move over here, where I can see you!"

She moved more into the light. The orc eyed her up and down.

"You're the alien spy?" he asked doubtfully. "You look more like a ragamuffin peasant's bitch. What could a wench like you know, anyway? Sauruman probably just brought you here for our amusement."

"Hey, I can be fun," Adelaide protested. "I know how to play football."

The orc glared. "We have our amusements. The best of which is the torture of pretty young things like yourself."

"Eh, you probably don't get many around here, unless Sauruman can conjure them up, hm? He _is_ a wizard, ain't he? Can't he conjure up women? I mean, if I was a wizard, and I was a man, I'd conjure up tons of women. As it is, right now, I'd rather conjure up a hot, hard guy. You know, the kind that give you multiple orgasms in a full hour."

"Shut up!" the orc hissed. "You won't get around me that way."

"I'm not flirting," Adelaide replied. But she backed down. She wanted to see how far she could irritate these orcs, if Sauruman wanted her alive. Besides, teasing orcs could become the new sport in Middle Earth…and she would have invented it!

"Why are you smiling?" the orc snarled. "You're our prisoner."

"Who says?"

"Says Sharkey. The boss says that you are our prisoner."

"I thought prisoners wore chains. Instead, I have a nice cold room, with a bed. I must be a guest, right?"

"Guest, prisoner…it's all the same," the orc snarled. "To us, anyway." He smiled, showing all eighteen, decayed teeth. Adelaide winced.

"So, you're the guard, huh?" she asked. "It'll get boring, watching me. I'll probably just sleep. I haven't had a lot of sleep for a long time. So I probably won't make any grand attempt at escape. I mean, this is cool, and all, but if this gets me at least a couple days' vacation from all the nuttiness of life, then by all means, keep me prisoner. This is one hell of a vacation."

"It is?" the orc scratched its head. "We shall be sure to give you all the comforts of a prisoner, then!"

"That's the hotel room service spirit! You'll do a fabulous job guarding me. I mean, the guard is the most important character in prison stories, 'cause, like, you know…they do all the guarding. Don't let me escape." She winked. The orc blinked several times, not quite sure how to respond. Adelaide chuckled. "In fact, I might just write up a memoir of my experiences here at Isenguard. Could I, like, interview you?"

"What do you mean?" the guard had a spear, and he jabbed it at her. "Are you trying to trick me? Stay away!" The orc eyed her warily. Then he straightened. "Could you really write up a story?"

"Sure. Got a pen and paper? I could totally write a few things right now."

The guard looked rather interested. "You will stay here," he snarled with all the evil he could possibly muster, and stalked out of the room. Adelaide began to loose hope. Was he going to report her? That could be bad. But then he returned, a couple minutes later, carrying some paper and a quill pen. The sight of an orc with writing materials was a new level of craziness for Adelaide's definition of Middle Earth. After about 18 years, it could still surprise you.

"Uh…I forgot you can't read."

But the orc stopped her. "Don't be an idiot. We can read fine, just as you can!" He thumped his chest proudly. "We just choose not to!"

"Then you won't read my book?" Adelaide said.

"Certainly, when it is all finished."

"But perhaps you've forgotten how to read."

"Fool! I'll show you." The orc slammed his foot down in front of Adelaide's face. "Write something, and I'll read it!"

Adelaide picked up the pen in trembling fingers and began to write: _Orcs are very intelligent_. She gave it to the orc, he looked at it, and tried to figure it out. After several vain attempts, he threw it down and howled in disgust.

"Filthy bitch! What's the use? I don't like to read anyhow!" And he stormed out of the room. Adelaide chuckled, somehow feeling much better about life.

Sometimes you just had to laugh at the bad guys.


	10. Imprisonment for Dummies

Chapter 10

Imprisonment for Dummies

**I apologize…I was rather influenced by "Pirates of the Caribbean" for a scene in this chapter. I couldn't resist. I tried my darnedest to keep it fresh. Also, I promise, there is more of Helm's Deep on the way, with different angles of Eowyn and the remaining Fellowship...there will be chapters for Frodo and Sam, and Faramir...this is a sort of "in the meantime" chapter. **

At Helm's Deep, Eowyn was definitely getting worried. Nobody had seen Adelaide, and what was worse, Gimli came to her with dreadful news: the young woman playing Tag with Adelaide had seen the last of the American; a warg had come between them both, and Adelaide, last she knew, had been trapped on the field of battle. The only inescapable conclusion that the dwarf had was that Adelaide had been captured. Whether her jailer was Mordor or Isenguard, however, neither he nor Legolas could say.

Eowyn fumed inwardly, that Adelaide's two friends would just sit there and not go out and rescue her. She expected more, at least, from Legolas, who was just beginning to realize that the love of his life was in mortal danger, and there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it.

When Theoden heard the news, he was silent, but did not order a search-and-rescue.

"There's more to her than we really know," he said. "I have faith in her ability to take care of herself. Besides, what could the Enemy do? Neither Sauron, nor Sauruman can kill her. She's too valuable. Our duty is to our people, here and now."

* * *

In her room at Isenguard, Adelaide was curled up in the bed, snoring away, heedless of the meals that were pushed in for her, and oblivious to the nasty remarks from the guards. She was exhausted, and slept like a log.

She awoke to find a note slipped under her pillow.

_My Lady Adelaide,_

_I fear that your stay has been most unpleasant so far. Forgive me. I had not suitable time to find better quarters for you, and how lonely you must feel! A little dove should never be caged up, as I like to say. Would you then honor me, therefore, in dining with me this evening? Six o'clock, dear child. And as we eat, we shall discuss matters more thoroughly. For now, know that I am your friend, and I am willing to be quite hospitable in many cases. _

_ Yours Truly,_

_ Sauruman the White_

Well, that was nice.

Adelaide did feel very hungry, although the thought of dining with Sauruman was a little upsetting. Suppose this was a direct invitation to the torture chamber? Tolkien had written about the serpent's tongue, and Adelaide wanted to believe the Anglo-Saxon professor.

But when you're a prisoner, hungry, with little chance of escape, there's not much you can do but trust the serpent and hope to God he's telling the truth five times out of ten. Adelaide was not very good with mind games or one-liners, and she hoped with all her heart that the Inquisition might be held off at least until she was wearing something decent, with food in her stomach, and a more solid head on her shoulders. Otherwise, it was stupid to think that she could match her wits against a wizard's.

Her orc guard came in later, bearing a box with a bunch of black, silken material. Adelaide picked it up.

"What the fuck is this?" she demanded.

"A dress, idiot," the orc snarled. "You didn't think you were going to attend my lord's table in those dirty rags, did you?"

"Oh, how kind of him," Adelaide muttered, taking a good look at the low-cut neckline and rather clingy shape. "This thing is going to tell him everything except my middle name. You go and tell that wizard to fuck himself in a corner."

"If that's your tune," said the orc. "You can dine with us, in the roasting pit. And we don't give a damn about your middle name."

Adelaide glared at the orc. "I'll put it on," she muttered. The orc laughed, turned, and left the room. Adelaide was left holding the gown. She felt degraded and afraid. This was a wizard who didn't respond to childish hollering. He was treating her like a lady. The Enemy had a game to play—that of polite intricacy. Adelaide was not in the mood to play any games that involved politeness—she wanted to spit in his milk and leave.

But for the moment, she had to be patient. She didn't even know what she was in for…better to hear the old geezer out and formulate a plan somehow.

Half an hour later, with her hair combed, and the rest of herself encased in a flattering sheath of black silk, Adelaide grudgingly let her guard lead her down a long corridor towards the hall where Sauruman dined. The metal floors and marble pillars gave the whole place an eerie, cold, lonely, lost feeling, and they walked slowly. There was hardly a flicker of life anywhere. Only a thin beam of light could be seen down the way, where there appeared to be great iron doors. The guard knocked, and it opened, to reveal the hideous face of Grima.

"Ah, so you've brought her!" he sneered. "Come in, my _lady_." His tone was mocking, hurtful. He offered his arm, but Adelaide spit on it.

"What the hell makes you think I'm going to sit there and take your motherfucking arm?"

Grima's face twisted in rage. "You are not a guest," he hissed. "A prisoner. We can do with you what we like. Know that I do all of this under his orders. It does not please me to offer you my arm; I would rather offer you a pit in Mordor. But that's not for me to say. I only act under orders."

"Yeah, and so what does that make you?" asked Adelaide. "A slave, maybe? You're worse off than I am."

He gritted his teeth and said nothing. But he escorted her into the room. Inside, it was very cold indeed, and candles were the only things that gave light. The cold marble floor prickled at her feet, and she felt, for a moment, like a true prisoner.

There was a large dining table in the center, and many good things were spread upon it, much like a banquet. Adelaide felt her mouth water. She had not had anything to eat since her capture, and still little except lembas bread during the trip. The sight of the meats, fruits, vegetables, desserts, and breads made her realize just how hungry she really was. It was set for two.

At the far and of the table sat Sauruman. Adelaide scanned him. He bore a striking resemblance to Gandalf, except much thinner, colder, and stiff, like a corpse. He seemed carved out of white marble. When he turned his head, the rest of his body was so still and silent that Adelaide thought she was having dinner with a robot. His gaze was piercing, but melted into grandfatherly affection and charm. He smiled. Adelaide looked closer. Well, he was actually kind of old-man kind of cute, almost cuddly…then she noticed the way his claw-like hands gripped the table, and she changed her mind.

_Screw you, pal. First chance I get, adios amigos._

"Welcome to Isenguard, my lady!" he stood and bowed to her. His voice was deep and friendly, but Adelaide didn't care if he had Sean Connery's vocal chords. There was nothing that he could say that would ever make her feel welcome. His claws gripped his black staff, making him seem like the devil in angel's robes. Adelaide was so uptight that she blurted out the first thing on her mind.

"SorrythanksbutIwon'tbestayinglongsoi'lljustbegoing."

"What's that, my dear?"

"I said, fuck off."

"Now, now, come, my dear child! Certainly you would not want to start our relationship on that sour note, would you? I have heard that you are a feisty little creature, but we shall discuss that later. For now, look upon me as a grandfatherly figure, and I shall do my very best to make your stay in Isenguard well-worth your time."

"Gandalf warned me about you."

"Gandalf!" Sauruman seemed to intensify, but then he cooled off and shrugged. "Well, well, then he reached you before I could. But are you really going to listen to that old doddering fool? Come now, you are a young lady with talents, wit, and intelligence. Surely you will learn my side of the story as well? Sit down, and partake of the bounty that I have spread for you. And have no fear of poison. Why should I want to poison you, a fair thing among us, and a daughter of mortal men?"

"I'll answer that one if you tell me why I should trust you."

"O, my lady, you mistake me." Sauruman smiled at her. "No, for I do not hate you. How could I? There is nothing about you to hate. I rather like your spirit of independence, and your more common tongue, though I must say that you look more charming in a dress than you do in those ridiculous clothes you were wearing before. I am sure that the Elves did not love you for who you were, did they?"

This poke at a very tender spot made Adelaide hesitate. But not for long.

"You're behind the times," she said evenly. "The Pointed-Ears and the American made up. We're friends now."

"But tell me, why be friends with the foolish? They do not realize they have been defeated."

"I myself wasn't aware of that."

"Do you not?" Sauruman's eyes were alive with interest. "The time of the Elves is drawing to a close. Man will fall within Middle Earth soon, and I, Sauruman of many colors, shall rule them."

"Yeah, well, don't hold your breath," said Adelaide dryly. "The Elves haven't all left yet. And even if they did leave, you wouldn't have much fun with Sauron. I hear he's a real stick in the mud."

"You do not understand," said Sauruman. "Sauron and I are joined forces. We are not against one another."

"Yeah? Really? Does your comrade have any idea that you sent out your own army to go fetch the Ring for your own beautiful little self? Yep, that's what I thought. Listen, why don't you just chuck your plans and convert? If it turns out that you and Sauron prevail, you two are going to be at each other's throat, vying for power. And Sauron might just well defeat you. And then where will you go? You'll have no friends. Orcs will gladly skin you alive for what Sauron will promise them. I doubt if anyone will take pity on you. And if I stayed, I know that I wouldn't. You wouldn't deserve it."

Adelaide was surprised. Where had all that come from? She felt very secure of herself, as if she was talking to an ex-boyfriend rather than a mature, wise wizard.

Sauruman rose, and paced the room. "We would not fight so," he said. "Instead, there will be a glorious reign over the race of men."

"Oh, yeah? Well, what if we don't want to be under your rule?"

"Too bad," said Sauruman, with a wave of his hand. "I am afraid that they will not fight, my lady." He smiled cruelly. "They are only a few against a thousand. Gondor will not help Rohan. Eomer is far away, and shall not come until it is too late."

"There's always hope."

"Hope!" Sauruman turned to her, his eyes burning. "What hope, my lady? Old fools doddering with their bows, and little brats who hardly understand war at all! One Elf, a man, and a dwarf! An old king who hardly knows wisdom from folly! A bunch of old hags and ragged wenches, cowering in the shadows, while the old and the feeble try to even lift their weapons! Is that hope, lady? Is that what you are waiting for?" He laughed. "Know this! There is no hope for you. There is no hope for Rohan. It is doomed. The peasants are against them. My army is going to fight, as soon as it is ready. And all your hopes will be washed down the drain, as sure as I am a wizard!"

"Huh," Adelaide remarked. "You sound more like a five-year-old playing with his Legos, than a wizard with power. You've got theories and expectations up the wazoo, but that's only thin air. What about real people, and free will? We've got a force on our side that you know nothing about." Her thoughts went back to Frodo, who was at this time bearing the Ring ever closer to Mt. Doom. He was her force, her power, and it was he who kept them all going. She knew that she loved him, and that would keep _him_ going.

"What new power is this?" asked Sauruman. "It may be your very own knowledge, lady, for that is why I brought you here."

"I'm not talking."

"My dear, sweet girl! I do not ask you to talk. You needn't, yet. We have all the time in the world. If not today, then tomorrow, or even next week. There is no escape from Isenguard, and when you witness the power between the Two Towers, you shall naturally give what we seek."

"Which is?"

"The Answer," Sauruman said, eyes on fire. "We must know, lady, the secret of our Ending. You and you alone can tell us the outcome of all our efforts! You know all that is hidden to us…indeed, to many on both sides! If you do not tell me what you know, I shall certainly find ways of making you speak, though I would not want to hurt those pretty white limbs of yours. Come! Will you not tell me all? I know that you have long wanted to tell your companions. Will you not tell me, and so be rid of that burden? It is hard, I know, for a young woman to hold her tongue."

"Funny, 'cause that's what everyone tells me to do," said Adelaide. "'Hold your tongue, Adelaide.' Yep, that's what they say. Elrond didn't want to 'count the chickens before they hatched,' and not even Gandalf wanted to know. Galadriel, I think, knows already, but she's an exception. Anyway, I'm not telling. You don't scare me." Well, he scared her a little, but talking to him was like talking to a kid. There really wasn't much of a difference.

The wizard glared at her, his eyes wide in anger, and his clenched, bony hands turning white to the knuckles. "You shall speak, in time," he spat. For a moment, Adelaide wondered whether or not she had gone too far. But the wizard relaxed after a moment, and then smiled at her gently. "Do not play such trying games with an old bag of bones like me!" he chuckled. "Poor maid. You must be very lonely, are you not?"

"Um…no, not really. I can handle this."

"Poor thing! You should have a companion to play with," said the wizard kindly. "I should have thought of it. And surely that cold room is not to your liking. A maiden like yourself surely would like pinks and gowns and ruffles and silk, with a lot of warmth. Would you like a kitten to play with? I could get you as many kittens as you wanted, if you like. And you may wander Isenguard freely. There is a garden, I think, which still remains. I did not have it ground up because I knew that if I should ever adopt a young lady such as yourself, she should want to run and play in it. I also have guards, not orcs, but human guards who shall take care of you. Or, if you wish, I can get a female servant to wait upon you. You shall have jewels by the pound, my lady, and gowns to suit your fancy. Every little dainty or sweetmeat I can obtain for you shall be given to you for dinner, and you need not dine with me every night. Perhaps you do not trust me well enough! I shall show you, my dear. Tomorrow, if you like, I shall escort you around Isenguard, and you shall see the amazing facilities we have here!"

"Sorry, I'm not applying," Adelaide informed him, rising. "Sauruman, I think I ought to tell you that I'm not happy here period, and I wouldn't care if you gave me all the jewels of Persia or all the kittens in the world. I'm not telling you anything."

"Come, come, my dear! There is no need to be moping in your room all day. It is settled. Tomorrow I shall give you a grand tour of Isenguard, and we shall be very happy here together, won't we, my little dove?"

"Dude! Will you get the picture? I'm not telling you diddly-fucking-squat. I'll come on your tour, but I won't be happy unless you just let me go."

"I cannot possibly do that."

"Why not?"

"Because then you would fly away to your friends, and turn them against me. I cannot let you go."

"Oh please. Wake up and smell the roses. They're already pretty much against you. I think you're hoping for a false hope. Get serious."

Sauruman came within inches of her face. He was very tall, about the size of Gandalf, almost, but only taller, and more commanding in presence. Adelaide wished by heaven that he wasn't so near to her. He made her feel uncomfortable, and what's more, she did not like the way he was looking at her. She felt as observed as a specimen underneath a microscope.

"I am quite serious," said Sauruman sternly, looking into her eyes. "And if you think that I am not, you may come with me, and I shall show you the meaning of fear."

The wizard seemed to grow taller about her in his wrath, but then he seized her arm and dragged her into another room, more spacious and colder than the last one. In the center of the room was a tall marble block, and upon this block was set a perfectly round, smooth stone, which gleamed like a large black marble pearl. This was the heart of Isenguard, and Adelaide knew that the stone was the Palantir, a powerful seeing-stone, which allowed Sauruman to communicate with Sauron. She instantly realized what the wizard was going to do with her, and she twisted in the grip of the wizard, struggling to get loose. For an old man, he was strong!

"You're not putting me anywhere near that old marble!" Adelaide raged. "Let go of me, you fucking old bastard, LET ME GO!"

She brought her heel up, and felt Sauruman's grip loosen. At the same time, he reached out with a clawed hand, stopping her in her tracks. Adelaide felt her body rise up into the air, and then slam backwards against the smooth, hard wall of the room. Her head spun, and she slipped to the floor, blacking out again.

There was just no winning against a wizard.

* * *

When Adelaide woke up again, it was five hours later, and night had fallen over Isenguard. She was exhausted and sore.

The conversation had not gone well. Adelaide was miserable in that she had underestimated her opponent, and, like a stupid little idiot, had thrown out words that were bold and foolish. She had underestimated, too, the graveness of her situation. It had not occurred to her that Isenguard or Mordor might have means of torture that could extract information while keeping a person alive. After all, men could be flayed and gutted alive. Men could also have all their limbs hacked off, and still survive. But the idea of being The Human Torso was not attractive to Adelaide at all.

She cried for a little bit, wishing that Aragorn was there to help and give advice, but he would probably only glare at her and say, "I told you so." And hadn't Gandalf said that little girls ought to be seen and not heard? The Fellowship had tried to protect her, and she had ignored them, going off to play games during a time of war. What an idiot!

She bit her lip. Condemnation was hard, and realizing her faults was harder. But she felt easier in body and spirit. This was no time for a pity-party. She was in a Middle Earth Concentration Camp, and she needed to survive. When she stood up, wiping her tears off her cheeks, Adelaide had grown up a little more…and deepened in maturity.

She had to find some way to escape, and quickly. Going over to the one warm spot in the room, she huddled down near it and observed it closely. This one patch on the wall was very warm, and there was a draft coming through it. Adelaide pressed herself up to the warmth. It was not burning, but it was not cold, either, like the rest of the stones, and she knew that here was a spot in Isenguard that was vulnerable. She heaved against it with all her strength, and a quiet grating noise sounded, like stone against stone. A crack appeared at one end, and Adelaide peeped through that. It was lighted at this end, and she could see where there was a staircase.

Adelaide had never been particularly interested in trap doors and secret passageways, but if escape meant suffering it all, then so be it. But she didn't know what was down there. For all she knew, there could be some giant spider, a troll, or worse. Maybe she could get out through the front door.

"Hey there," she said through her barred door. The guard grunted. "I don't suppose you'd mind letting me out for a minute or so?"

Oh, damn that orc guard. "You can just forget that, princess!" he snarled. "You're very sneaky, but I doubt you'll get through me. Just sit back and enjoy being a prisoner," he chuckled rudely.

Adelaide bit her lip. An idea popped into her head. "Hey, I thought female captives were raped, or forced to give a strip-tease, or something," she said. "Don't you…uh…want to see what I've got?"

The guard turned slightly. Adelaide licked her lips and swallowed her bile. Sometimes you had to make sacrifices. "I'll suck your cock 'til it turns purple," she blurted, never having been very good with dirty language. Her guard chuckled, a thick, messy sound. Damn orcs. Their cocks probably _were_ purple anyway. Adelaide took another deep breath and twisted a bit of cloth from her bed-sheets in her hands. "Hey," she said, a little more seductively. "I'll let you fuck me in the ass, like the big, bad, animal that you are."

That did it. The orc unbarred the door. Adelaide stepped backwards. The minute her guard was through, she looped the cloth around his throat from behind, and violently jerked it as hard as she could, strangling him to the point of passing out. He slumped to the floor, and Adelaide stepped over his body, shaking in fright. What had she done! Incredible!

"Aha," she smiled triumphantly as the door swung open. "And the heroine scores again."

The whole thing was done without much noise, as she stole across the corridor softly. The main intent now was to find the nearest exit and bolt pell-mell for Rohan. It couldn't have been that tough. Her dress rustled ever so slightly, and she tried her best to hush it up. But it was too late, because Grima had been around the corner, watching everything, and so now leaped out from the shadows, grabbed her hands, wrenched them behind her back, and slammed her face into the wall.

"You know," he hissed into her ear. "I warned Sauruman myself that you were hardly worth the trouble, but he insisted on your capture anyway. They say you can do things with your mind, or such was the rumor of Rohan. Mistake me not when I say that Sauruman is perfectly aware of this power you have. He is eager to see more of it…to try and harness it…to see where its source comes from."

"I'm not telling him the secret of coffee!"

Grima gave her hands a wrenching twist. "Sauruman requests your presence for a little tour of your new home."

"This isn't my home and I don't want a tour," mumbled Adelaide, whose face was smashed against the wall. "Let me go, you idiot, or I'll give you a first-hand demonstration about how my mind works."

Grima immediately let her go and backed away, hunched like a spider and glowering at her. Adelaide caught her breath, straightened, and stared at him.

"You really are scared of me, aren't you? And there's no reason to be. Huh, don't worry. You're not mine to kill," she spilled a few beans.

Sauruman was waiting for her in the room with the Palantir, which was covered up, thank God. Adelaide stood before the wizard, not speaking.

"Have you had a nice little nap?" Sauruman asked. "I fear my temper is something you must learn to live with. But come, I would show you about Isenguard, and you shall be none the worse for it, I can assure you."

The tour lasted longer than Adelaide had hoped, but there was so much of interest to see that she didn't feel tired or bored at all. She wisely chose to converse with Sauruman as politely as possible, to gain knowledge about her prison, and to learn about him, the Istari, and the days before the Third Age. Though Sauruman prodded her for information, Adelaide tried to keep him off that subject. The game was to stay alive and not spill the beans. Sauruman asked her many questions about America and the culture she lived in, and she found no harm in telling him about things like radio and internet. He didn't want the information on post-modern technology; he wanted information about the end of the book. But Adelaide had no intention of giving anything away.

Towards the early hours of the morning, when the sky was still dark, Sauruman offered to take her outside.

"Come," he said, smiling. "You have not yet seen it."

"I don't want to see it," Adelaide muttered, irritable.

"But of course you do. I planted a garden. Would you not like to see it?"

"If it don't have veggies or flowers, you can forget it."

"Oh, it is unique in its own right," the wizard smiled. "Now _come_." His voice booked no argument. And now was not the time to resist. There were guards everywhere with sharp, pointy weapons that looked neither healthy nor helpful.

As soon as Adelaide stepped out, her senses were assaulted by a rush of heat, smoke, and the foul odor of sweaty, dirty bodies. The air seemed to be on fire, red with the hate that brooded in the den of the viper. Upon the air there stole a smell unlike any other, alive and terrible, the smell of blood and sweat, with harsh crying, labor and hatred. She could feel the intense tension of the atmosphere. Trees were being cut down and hauled over a great pit. Adelaide did not want to venture near, for it was from this pit that the stench and heat was rising.

Orcs crawled about the place like black spiders, wearing hideous gear and sweating profusely. There was malice in their eyes as they walked past her. But Sauruman was The Man, and was in charge of it all. He strode round, proud as any king, but haughty and malignant in his strides, overseeing all the intense wickedness that was being done. Adelaide suddenly hated him with a passion. If he was correct, and such as he was brooding were to spread throughout Middle Earth, the innocent hobbits would be enslaved…Frodo would not succeed in his mission, and Adelaide would be sent straight to Mordor. She would never see Frodo again.

_What good is it_, she thought miserably. _Of knowing things in your head when the reality of the earth beneath your feet is so different?_

"The garden stinks," she muttered under her breath. Sauruman beckoned her to the great pit, and helped her down the staircase. Adelaide did not even try to hold her nose. For Frodo, she would not. For him, her Ringbearer and her hero, she would not falter, even as he himself might have. Her steps were immediate and secure. She knew what she was doing. All around her, in the great fires and the great mud holes, the Uruk-hai were being bred, and weapons were being made. Instruments of torture, killing, made to rip and tear.

Sauruman gestured to her. "This is my garden," he said cruelly. "Where my flowers of death grow. My army will be ready soon. Shall you see a birth? A flower grows."

Adelaide did not want to see anyone being born from mud pits. She did not even want to know HOW the breeding worked. But her curiosity got the better of her, and she peered at a writhing mass inside a muddy, embryonic sac. Sauruman smiled.

"I hear you're interested in getting married," he whispered into her ear. "I understand that this lover of yours is a hobbit, and that the two of you want children. If you ever want that dream to become a reality, you'd best tell me what you know. Otherwise, feel free to stay here, in this pit, and look after the newborn."

Adelaide had never been so frightened in her life.

* * *

_He remembered the first night that he had made love to her in the most efficient way he knew how without harming her physical virginity. Oh, he'd had several thoughts before that time, and each one more interesting than the last, but the real thing was beyond anything he'd ever believed possible. His girl, his lass, his Adelaide…she was beyond anything he had ever believed possible. He adored her from the bottom of his heart; he would have given the world, with its sun, moon, and stars, to her. _

_She was sleeping on the chair when he came home from the Green Dragon. She had laid out his evening meal, as usual, and the hole was nicely cleaned. She had lit a fire on that particularly chilly night, and the romantic glow of the flames flickered across the entire room. In the light, Adelaide's soft skin shone prettily, and the shadows played with the golden tresses. Her eyes fluttered gently in sleep. She was smiling. _

_Oh, he had never seen another creature so beautiful. She was the prettiest lass he could imagine then, with her sweet bosom, playful lips, and slender, muscular limbs that climbed trees, swam in the river, and played tag among the cornfields. He wanted to sit there, contemplating her beauty, taking in and exulting in every inch of the exotic exquisiteness of her slender features, particularly her dainty feet—not a hairy hobbit's foot, but a smooth, slender work of art. A human dwelt in his hole, but one so beautiful he could never imagine her as a hobbit lass. Every inch of her was created and perfected by a Master. She needed not the curly hair, wooly feet, or even the height to make her acceptable in the community. She was Adelaide. And Frodo, at that moment, and from then on, loved her so deeply and firmly that the roots of such love grounded themselves, never to be ripped up by anything. _

_Her eyelids fluttered again, and she moved in her sleep. The movements of all those curves, moving together in unification, gripped his head, and Frodo felt his cock surge forward in reply. His mouth was very dry. _

_Suddenly, her eyes shot open. _

"_Oh good Lord. I just dreamt that I failed college."_

_He could not help smiling—not at her funny expression, but at the gorgeous eyes that seemed so troubled and excited. As they softened and turned his way, Frodo felt his stomach heave in nervous anticipation. His cock swelled. Oh yes, Valar, he wanted her. Wanted her badly. She sat up. Stretched. Oh Valar, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He wanted to rip off her clothing. He stood clumsily, the bulge in his pants most definitely obvious by this time. Adelaide did not seem to notice it. She yawned._

"_Did you have a nice time?"_

"_What? Oh, er…yes…yes, I did."_

"_There's some supper for you on the table. I ran out of mushrooms, so I hope chicken serves you alright."_

"_Chicken…" Frodo muttered, his mouth watering—though not because of chicken. He wanted breasts and thighs, yes—but not a chicken's. Adelaide cocked her head. _

"_You okay?"_

"_No…I mean, yes…I mean…oh…" Frodo's voice croaked and died away as she snuggled back down comfortably in the chair and looked at him softly, gently. No smart-ass city girl now, but a young woman who seemed to beg with her eyes._

"_I'm not hungry," he blurted. Adelaide's expression betrayed no confusion. She was ready when he leaned forward and captured her mouth as only he knew how to capture it. __She trembled with eagerness as he moved down her throat and her tantalizingly uncontrolled shivers sent heat coursing through his body. He loosened her clothing as quickly as he could, delving deep into her mouth with his tongue, seeking her sweetness and enjoying every minute of it. She was unresisting, pushing back at him with raw fervour and delight, not giving a damn about what was wrong or right. Every minute was precious. Every bit of her body he touched was like magic. He was an artist; she was his sculpture. His fingers delighted in every curve, every hill and valley. He played with her artfully, letting his fingers dance here and there until he felt her moan against his ear. _

"_Frodo."_

_He gasped, wanting to hear her moan his name again. She did not answer with her mouth, but rather her body. She leaned into his embrace, sending him backwards. They fell to the floor in front of the fireplace together, in a tangle of arms and legs. Frodo reared up and quickly unbuttoned his shirt, ripping it off and tossing it to one side. His skin glowed, matching the sensual, exotic glory of her own marvellous texture. _

"_Adelaide, Adelaide...let me make love to you, lass, let me make love to you..." He felt masculine for the first time, a dominant sort of masculinity that made him important over her. He pinned her beneath his body and stroked her forehead, in charge of the situation._

"_Hullo, my lass."_

"_Hullo, Frodo."_

"_Mmm..." he smiled and took up her corset string in his hand. Winking at her playfully, he tugged at it. "Shall I, lass? Or do you have a thing or two to teach your master?"_

"_My master? Who says that? I am completely inexperienced."_

_He knew she was lying. She'd had fantasies; they'd openly described in detail to each other their most intimate dreams. The thought made him shudder, and he tugged on her bosom-string again._

"_I must confess that I am as well," he lied. "But..." the string came undone in his hands, and he practically jerked the material off her body. "I am experienced in other ways. Oh Adelaide, goodness..." The gown came apart in his hands to reveal creamy white flesh that he had longed to touch for years. "My, my," he teased her. "What's the idea, hiding all this from me?" He was passionately aroused, and pushed at her with his groin to indicate his need. Adelaide blushed like a coy little girl._

"_I didn't know you cared."_

"_Cared! It's all I've dreamed about." Frodo was getting desperate. Much more of this talk, and he wouldn't be able to hold himself in. But he looked at her with pleading, and slowly she smiled. She put her arms about his neck. Brought them close together, pressing against his body with a heat and desire. Frodo felt his need surge into one place, and he quickly, without knowing how, stripped himself down, from top to bottom. He saw her eyes widen, and her pretty mouth open slightly in surprise._

"_Wow."_

"_Wow? That's all you have to say?" he was disappointed. But the wonder and joy in her eyes told him a different story. She could not speak but gently ran a finger across his chest. He shivered under her touch. _

"_I've always wanted to do that," she said quietly. "I can't believe I'm getting all this from a literary character. Didja know I'm a virgin?"_

_He stopped everything and stared at her. _

"_A virgin?"_

"_I've never had sex in my life."_

"_Not even—"_

"_No, Adelard and I have never done it. And I don't want sex until marriage."_

_Well, if that didn't take the fire and blood out of the situation! Frodo felt himself go limp as a boneless fish. He stared at her. _

"_Um…well. That's very…very…maidenly of you," he said lamely. Adelaide laughed, and suddenly Frodo perked up. She sounded very…devious indeed! Oho, what had she planned? Adelaide sat up and winked at him, curving her body into a position that both teased and tempted. Oh, she was a seductress now, looking at him with a serious little face, through locks of that golden hair, with her body posed so as to accentuate all the lovely curves and graceful smoothness. Breasts, hips, thighs, legs, waist, arms, neck, the sweep of her feminine jawline…oh Valar. Oh, oh, oh Valar!_

_He pushed her back down and began kissing her. Oh Valar, this was heaven indeed, to be making love to the very girl whom he adored. She was responsive to his kisses, moaning and gripping his curly head. Her little gasps of pleasure sent him spinning into realm 9. She was unbelievable. _

"_Frodo Baggins. We are in trouble, aren't we."_

_Who cared? Adelaide would later say later on that getting all fired up probably wasn't the smartest of things to do in a relationship, but neither was it wholly regrettable. He responded to her playfulness, and she let him go as far as they were both willing to go. They made out there on the bed, and then slept together in peace. Never before had he felt so much raw energy, or such marvelous fulfillment in an act. He wanted to be her husband._

_He was worried, though, of losing her forever._

_

* * *

_

Adelaide stared long and hard at Sauruman. "Then I guess you'd better leave me down here," she said quietly. "Because I'm not telling you anything."

The wizard trembled, and then struck her. Adelaide flinched sharply, and then two orcs grabbed hold of her. Sauruman waved his hand.

"Throw her in with the wargs."

Oh, shit. The orcs hauled her away, and Adelaide began to wonder how much longer she could hold out against that kind of torture.

The orcs dragged her brutally across the floor, not caring a jot for cleanliness. Adelaide was covered in bruises and mud by the time the orcs finally threw her down into a dark pit. Stretching out a hand, she tried to feel around, and plunged her fingers into something…well, rotted. An orc threw down a burning brand, and Adelaide screamed. The floor of the pit was covered in the bones and other rotting remains of orcs, a few men, and an Elf. And she was sitting in a mess of fresh meat.

Oh, SHIT.

There was no way out of the pit.

It was probable that the Wargs would rip her to shreds, if they got the chance. Adelaide had seen the Wargs once, and that was during the raid. Then the time had been in full sunlight. But now she was alone, in the dark, with a bunch of corpses. She was fresh meat for 'em, unless this was another trick, and there were no wargs involved. If there were…

Adelaide tried to remember lessons about encounters with bears. They had them all the time at Alaskan hiking centers. You were supposed to let the bear know you saw it first, so it would not be startled by your presence. Bears didn't like sneak attacks. Then, you were supposed to make yourself as big and scary as possible. Yeah, right. Playing dead was a last resort, although she had read what happened to people who did that. Mauled to the bone.

_But what if I could use my mind this once? Could I do it? Would Sauruman see me? Perhaps I could risk it!_

A whole hour passed, and still nothing happened. Adelaide began to feel very sleepy indeed. Yawning, she lay down to rest. It won't hurt, she thought. After all, I'm not that tired anyway, and…I only need…a little…a…only…a little…nap…

Adelaide zoned out.


	11. Elven CPR and Gondor's Merry Men

Chapter 11

Elven CPR and Gondor's Merry Men

**I would like to take this opportunity to thank all my devoted readers and reviewers for their high praise and helpful comments. You must know that it really does inspire and encourage authors (being such yourselves, as well) to greater heights, and I have been so blessed to have such wonderful reviews. I wasn't at all sure how my story would be received, and I am so thankful that it's such a success! I will continue to update and post, and I hope you will keep reading and reviewing. It means the world to me. I sincerely hope you enjoy reading the rest of the "Adelaide" trilogy!**

* * *

Meanwhile, Aragorn was having a time of it.

After the battle on the field, the Warg he had been attached to suddenly freed himself from the burdensome man, and fell to his death on the rocks. Aragorn had to twist with what strength he had left to try and land in the water. He did. But the slap of that chilling liquid, and the soreness of his wounds would not allow him to swim as he might have been able to. Finally, he gave it up, and rendered himself unconscious, floating downstream.

_Along on the banks, Adelaide saw him, and she ran along side of him until she knew that there was little she could do for him when he was in the water. In her nightgown, it was hardly a time to go wading in after someone who weighed more than she, and in a rushing current as well. So she ran along the bank to make sure that nothing happened. These running dreams were rather fun!_

At last, Aragorn's body washed upon the shore, where it lay unmoving. The wind blew over his body.

_Adelaide hurried over to him and sat beside him, frustrated because she couldn't do diddly-fucking-squat. However, she was aware of a third person around…not physically, but the spiritual presence of a certain Elf-lady—not Galadriel, you nuts; Arwen! _

_Aragorn's lips stirred as if they had been kissed, and the Adelaide looked up to see Brego. The horse of her friend's cousin, whom Aragorn had set free, was coming to help his giver._

Brego nudged Aragorn, and he moaned. The horse continued his prodding, nuzzling the man and urging him to his feet. Then, the horse magically, majestically got down, allowing the man to reach up wearily and grab the mane. He hoisted himself up onto the saddle.

So Brego carried Aragorn off. But in the next instant, Adelaide found the scene get hazy, it swirled before her eyes, and suddenly she was in Rivendell. Twilight had fallen, and all was dark, save for the Elves who were lighting their candles, preparing to leave Middle Earth. Adelaide stared. Well, in running dreams, one certainly got around!

Walking along by a will that was not her own, she entered a room where the soft draperies hung, and the wind blew so delicately. All was quiet, and on a bed lay Arwen, as if in a trance. Adelaide put her hands on her hips.

"_Well, did you ever_!" she exclaimed, and the immortal maiden sat up, surprised to hear a voice in her room. Upon the sight of Adelaide, she smiled wearily, and lay back down.

"I was hoping you would come," she murmured.

"_Did I have much of a choice?_"

"How is Aragorn?"

"_Oh, you should know the answer to that one, honey."_

"I wish for your advice," Arwen said hesitatingly. "For we seem to have a kinship in our choice of lovers…and so our fates may take the course of Luthien."

"_Well, now, I don't know about that. I'm not the one with a gloom-and-doom father."_

Arwen sighed. "Our people are leaving."

"_So I gathered_."

"My father desires that I go."

"_Figures_."

"He says there is only death for me here."

"_Well, he's right, you know."_

"But I LOVE Aragorn! With my whole heart, I am devoted to him, his body, his spirit, his everything…I have never felt so much love for anyone, even my father. Yet the love for my father is obedient and true. Shall I ignore that?"

"_Gee, I'm really not the one you ought to ask…in America, if you're…uh, capable of being independent, which I believe you probably are, you have a right to make your own decisions. You have free will, so the choice is yours…but I would advise sticking it out for Aragorn."_

Arwen's tears spilled. "But I cannot do that without risking the wrath and utter despair and disappointment of my father! I am all the daughter her has, more precious to him than all the jewels beneath and above the earth. Will you not help me?"

"_I'm TRYING."_

"He asked me whether or not I loved him."

"_Tough_."

"He said, 'Have I not your love also?' Adelaide, what could I say?"

"_Well, if I was old enough to marry, and my dad told me that I should remain a virgin for the rest of my immortal life for his sake, I would ignore the 4__th__ Commandment and say, 'tough shit, get over it.' He's acting like the world will end."_

"It will…for me."

"_Argh! No, it won't! Besides, being a mortal isn't so bad."_

"I am not afraid of death."

"_Well, what ticks you off, then?"_

"Being in a world where night has come, without a star," said Arwen mournfully. "Being in a world and walking under the trees where no light comes. I shall be all alone, Adelaide. Even you, I think, shall be gone."

"_Hm. Maybe. But you'll have Aragorn. Maybe not forever, but you will have him for a little while. I know I won't have Frodo forever…at least, I don't think so. All good things come to an end, awful as that sounds. But I'd rather have one good day with Frodo than an eternity without him. How's the saying go…better to love and have lost than to have never loved at all."_

Arwen dried her eyes and stared long and hard at Adelaide. "Who said that?"

"_Hell, I don't know. I forget my philosophical persons, unless it's Freud. He's hard to ignore. Him, and Socrates. But two very different views. Socrates would advise you to go sailing over the sea. Freud will tell you to screw the ships and go sailing with Aragorn. And not in the literal sense."_

Arwen stood. "When shall I see you again?"

"_Oh, I don't know. I'll probably see you whenever. But for Pete's Sake, don't you dare pull me in here again without my knowing it_."

Then she disappeared. But Arwen sat, long in thought, until finally, with a great burst of tears, made ready for her trip to Valinor.

* * *

When Adelaide awoke, she felt exactly like Daniel in the Lion's Den. There were Wargs about. They had apparently been let in, and they looked as if they were well-fed, at least. Not one of them bothered her. Adelaide sat up, terrified, but the big dogs only yawned lazily, and stretched their backs. One was nudging the Elf corpse, in a playful manner. Adelaide stared at it. It was almost puppy-like. Could this really be the man-eating thing she had battled on the fields to Helm's Deep?

"Nice doggies," she whispered fearfully, and pressed herself up near the wall. "Be good, Rovers. I'll be leaving very shortly now, so please hold your comments until I'm out of the pit…"

One of the Wargs snarled and bounded toward her. Adelaide shrieked. But the her surprise, the Warg wagged its tail, and hunched on the ground, as if waiting for her to throw a ball. Adelaide's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Who knew that wargs could be so…friendly? Apparently they had been very well-fed, and were in good humor. Well! She'd have some tales to tell Eowyn, if she ever escaped from Isenguard.

Suddenly, from the top of the pit, came a voice, and a rope was lowered to her. Adelaide wasn't expecting any chivalrous knight. But it was a guard. A human guard, wearing a face-mask. Wow. She didn't know what to say, as he hauled her up and then stood staring at her.

Adelaide shoved past him, but he caught her arm, twisted it sharply, and marched her back through the pits and slime to a stairway. He led her up the stairs and then back into the halls of Isenguard. Adelaide, muddy, tired, and hopelessly dirty, stood before Sauruman again.

"Do you repent?" The wizard leaned forward. "Are you going to share your information with us now? If not, there is no rush. I have been very hasty, my dear." He beckoned her forward and stroked her chin with his bony claws. "You poor thing! Ravished by slimy beasts and terrified by wargs…you've had a long day, I fear." He turned to the guard. "Lead her to a bath," he said. "And give her a gown. Then take her to her room. I have been busy, my dear," he cackled and rubbed his crisp hands together. "Your room has had some improvements."

"Oh yeah?" Adelaide snapped. "You know, there's no use in trying to butter me up," she said as they walked along. "What kind of a pansy do you think I a—"

She stopped dead.

Ooohh Good God in Merciful Heavens.

Her room was no longer cold or frightening. Instead, it was lit up by a thousand golden candles, placed artfully into the walls, which were not black, but draped with loose, gauzy silks and other shimmering materials. There was a warm, fuzzy carpet beneath her feet; a lavender-scented, hot bath in a corner; and at least six wardrobes flung open to reveal the most expensive and lavish of gowns. A huge vanity-set stood near the bath, with jewel-encrusted toiletries and a huge mirror. Her bed was transformed from a hospital-cot into a magnificent, plush thing with heaps of goose-down pillows, warm coverlets, and a gold-tasseled canopy. A beautiful little puppy curled up by a fireplace that had materialized against the wall. And then, as Adelaide stood there with her jaw halfway to the floor, music began to play, music she had not heard since listening to the radio on a typical night-time drive.

Oh God, it reminded her so much of home. America. And this was no doubt a ten-star hotel, and her friends would probably walk out of the walls and greet her as friendly as ever, and then maybe she could hug her mum, too, and her dear, darling dad who never seemed to have time for her, but always remained close to her heart—

Sauruman's eyes twinkled. "Well, my little pansy?"

"Dude, go ahead and water me!" Adelaide gasped. The wizard left her in that instant to her own devices, and Adelaide quickly stripped out of the disgusting clothes she was wearing, ran the water, and hopped into the tub. The water was hot and delicious, and the bubbles piled high around her. For a moment, Adelaide giggled, and then began to make bubble castles, as she had done a long time ago (when she was five). There were candies upon a dish near the tub, and a little mat had been spread for her use for when she was finished. Adelaide washed her hair thoroughly, and scrubbed her body until she felt raw. But the clean feeling felt so darn good after weeks of living like a savage…Adelaide had her feminine moments too. She changed into a fresh, soft gown and then curled up in the bed with a book—how on earth had Sauruman known that Moby Dick was one of her classical favorites? It was just like being at home, fresh out of a shower.

Sauruman, for an old geezer, sure knew how to turn on a woman's lightbulb.

For a moment, Adelaide almost started talking aloud to herself, as she had used to do. Frodo's name on her lips seemed alien, as if she were talking to herself about a book-report. But then, passing by the wall, her fingers pushed past the soft silks, and touched ice-cold, black stone.

Reality crashed down around her.

Sauruman knew how to flip switches alright…but Adelaide was no low-watt bulb.

None of this would ever make up for betraying the Fellowship. What would Aragorn say, he who loved her like a father? And Gandalf, who grumped and fussed, but loved her even more than Aragorn? And Gimli, who actually knew her better than she knew herself? And the hobbits…Adelaide would never let the hobbits down! Least of all Frodo, her darling, beloved Frodo, who toiled right now to Mordor! Frodo would not need to suffer because of her stupidity!

However, Adelaide didn't see a need to bring down dislike upon her all at once. The Princess Treatment was kind of nice. And Sauruman had told her that she could take her time. Well, then she'd take her time! And meanwhile, she would just have to try and find a way out. Even pleasures were temporary, and Sauruman was only trying to bait her. It was possible to nibble the bait, and not take the hook.

* * *

A-hem. I suppose you're wondering where Frodo and Sam (and Gollum) were all this time. Well, the last place we saw them was in the little glade. Frodo had peacefully fallen asleep, with Adelaide's picture in his hands, and was having a delightful dream. Sam had unpacked and was rummaging around, trying to think of what to perhaps have for something to eat. And Gollum was just as happy day goes happy. Sam couldn't understand it, but he didn't like it. He was suspicious of this new Gollum, far more than he had been of the old. It might have been the wrong kind of feeling to have, as we shall see later, but nevertheless, Sam was right to keep so close a watch on the creature.

Gollum was prancing about and chortling when he suddenly rushed back into the bushes and sprung upon two young hares. Strangling them good, he ripped them apart and, chortling like a newborn babe only done something cute, brought them back and suddenly slammed them into Frodo's lap. Frodo gave a start and woke up. Upon seeing the dead bunnies he blanched, but Gollum smiled up at him with an eager kind of delight and slapped his hands on the ground. He proceeded to do what Adelaide might have called a "happy dance." Anyhow, Frodo himself had to smile at Gollum's playful attitude. He grinned at Sam.

"You see, Sam," he said calmly with renewed happiness. "Smeagol is alright. I told you I could help him."

To Sam, the wretched creature looked far from really saved. He was still thin as all get out, he smelled, he wasn't even in proper apparel, and there were some habits that he definitely needed to drop. Like the happy dance.

But Gollum pawed at the rabbits and cooed up into Frodo's face.

"They are nice, they are young, they are tender!" he cried. "Eat them, eat them, masster!" He picked up a bunny and cracked its spine. Frodo winced.

Sam stalked over and swiped up the rabbits, much to Smeagol's dissatisfaction. "Stop that!" he ordered. "You'll make him sick if you continue like that! There's only one real way to eat a brace of coneys!"

He proceeded to skin, clean, and chop up the bunnies, and then threw them into his pot. He made a little fire, put the pot on, and added some water with a few herbs. Frodo got up to help him, getting out a few lembas bread. What was even better was that he had that special something from home: the salt. It wasn't roast chicken, but hey, it was hot. Gollum, however, was definitely not liking the situation at all. He began to scream.

"What are they doing!" he spat. "Nassty, stupid, fat hobbit! Ruining nice juicy meat Smeagol saved for you, yess, nice rabbits!"

"Oh, stop it," grumbled Sam. "It smells good. There was hardly any meat on 'em anyway! What we really need though," he said, sighing. "Are some potatoes. Nice…juicy…big…potatoes." Sam liked potatoes. He was a gardener, remember. But Gollum made a face.

"What's tater, eh, precious? What's…taters?"

Sam heaved a sigh and glared at him. "Po-ta-toes!" he said with emphasis. "Roast 'em, boil 'em, stick 'em in a stew!"

"Nasty, fat hobbit!"

Sam glared at him. "Some day, Gollum, if you turn over a new leaf, and keep it turned, I'll cook you some smoked fish and chips. Even you couldn't say no to that."

"Yes, we could!" denied Gollum. "Spoiling nice fish! Give it to us _rrrrraw_ and _wrrrrrigling_!" Sam felt sick to his stomach. He kept thinking about all the nasty things the wretch might have eaten. He was glad that at least Frodo wasn't aware of his mistakes. Or maybe he was. Either way, he didn't seen to care.

"You're hopeless," was all he could say to Gollum.

The rabbit stew was by far the best meal the hobbits had enjoyed on the trip from Amon Hen, and even Frodo went so far as to stand up and applaud his chef. The two friends sat down together to enjoy a blissful rest, and talk about their sweethearts. For Sam, Rosie was still in the Shire, but he spoke endlessly about her. Frodo let him talk. It made him feel special that Sam would confide to him his most secret of feelings about women, and Rosie in particular.

"Now, my Rosie can cook, mind you," Sam said. "And she does serve up a beautiful apple pie. Nobody can serve apple pie like my Rosie! I remember, once, she baked three pies in one day, and in that same day, her old dad ate all three of 'em, and left the crumbs for poor Mrs. Cotton…she took a broom to him, she did! Poor Rosie cried over them pies…"

"And Adelaide was always experimenting. ALWAYS. She was never content with regular fare; she tried everything from something called spaghetti to another thing called macaroni. She once made a lovely cheese dip, now that I recall. She fried up chopped slivers of potato, and urged me to dip them in the sauce. It was delicious. But I remember she burned her first batch of cookies. My poor lass! She was sulky for a whole day."

"Ah, she and Rosie, when they got together, Mr. Frodo, they could lay out a spread as fine as any for a party. They were always cooking, laughing, sewing, or playing games. Miss Adelaide always was a young girl at heart, and that's my opinion. Rosie, now, she's youg, but I do love her so. She's got a settling mind."

Frodo was quiet. A settling mind. He hadn't thought of that before. Adelaide was rather an adventurous girl, who enjoyed running around and playing games, rather than settling down. Perhaps that's why she was afraid to marry him. She was afraid to give up her youth. Perhaps she would never do more than wish to be young all her life, flirt handsomely, and give all the men a run for their money. He shook his head to dispel such thoughts. How vicious! Adelaide was deeply in love with him. She had said as much on the beach.

Pretty soon, Frodo shook himself. "Let's pack up, Sam," he said. "That way we can be ready for moving on."

Sam nodded and started rolling up his things. Frodo moved to do so also, and they spent the day packing. Suddenly, Frodo stopped. He could hear something, like bird whistles. And yet he saw no birds, nor heard the sound of wings. He shook his head. Was he imagining things? Then he heard the whistles again!

Sam had heard them too, and was now looking up around him. Gollum was sniffing the air, and whining in a low hum, fearfully. Frodo was instantly ready to be n his guard, whatever it was. A trick of the enemy? No…Gollum would be going crazy, and running off, leaving them helpless. And yet…

Frodo and Sam moved away from their little clearing, trying to find where the whistles were coming from. As they moved silently under the trees to a little knoll, the gasped. The noises had become much louder, and their little knoll overlooked a great drift in between two hillsides. Marching there, with banners, bright armor, and deadly weapons, were men and other things, arrayed in battle gear and waving banners and spears. They made a crunching noise as they filed along, and every so once in a while took up a chant. It sounded warlike to Frodo.

"We've lingered here too long," he said to Sam. "Come, let's go."

"Wait! Mr. Frodo, look!" Sam suddenly saw something that exceeded his wildest dreams. Jemima Puddleduck was forgotten for the…Oliphant.

Actually, Adelaide had told him before of these massive creatures that you could feed peanuts to at the zoo. They were Elephants in her world. But it was all the same to Sam. The great thing was even larger than a house, with great tusks that swept down, up, and out. A great trunk sprouted from its head, and dangled between the tusks. It had great folds of tough gray skin, wrinkled and knotted like a tree's. Atop its massive back was a dais, covered with a canopy, and inside were fierce black men with white teeth and much gold covering their arms.

Sam wasn't ready to go yet, but suddenly, out of nowhere, arrows began whistling out and striking in every direction. Panic, hell, and chaos broke loose! Pandemonium was set on the run! The troops down below aimed their spears and weapons at the whatever it was that was fighting. Frodo could not see the aggressors, but he was reminded of the bird calls, and immediately knew that it was definitely time to go. This was heightened by the fact that the great Oliphaunt had been hit, and was now swaying like a massive tree ready to crash. He thundered, trumpeted, and roared in pain, running wildly over to the exact knoll where the hobbits lay. Frodo and Sam just moved in time. The Oliphaunt swerved, and one of the men riding him was shot. He fell, and landed in a bloody mess at the feet of the hobbits. Frodo gasped, and did not try to think. He turned to run.

His flight was immediately halted by a tall man dressed like Robin Hood. Hell, EVERYONE dressed like Robin Hood in Middle Earth! He caught Frodo by the shoulders, and then threw him to the ground. Sam cried out and tried to help his master, but he too, was caught by some of the other man's followers, and was thrown to the ground. A blade was pointed at his throat, while the leader pointed his arrow at Frodo. The hobbit could not believe his foul luck. Why was he always running into this kind of trouble?

"I believe we have caught spies, Lord Faramir," said one of the men. "But not men. And not dwarves. But not Elves! Elves are wondrous fair to look upon."

"Meaning we're not, I take you!" sputtered Sam. "We're not spies!"

The blade at his throat inched closer, forcing him to lay still. "Keep quiet!" said Faramir, the tall man with fair hair and bright, blue eyes. "We have no time for this. Not men, dwarves, or Elves. Perhaps a trick of the Enemy? We shall see."

"We are not spies," said Frodo. "We are on a journey through the land—"

"There are no travelers here," said Faramir harshly. "Only servants of the White Tower or the Dark Tower. Which are you?"

"Neither," said Frodo. "I tell you we are travelers, and wish to be left in peace! We are bound to an errand of secrecy. Those who claim to oppose the Enemy would do well not to hinder us.""

Faramir walked over to the body of the dead man. He looked into the face. It was a young face.

"I wonder," he mused. "If he was only traveling too. And I also wonder…" he was quiet. "I wonder if this man had a child. A wife. A family. He was too young, it seems, to die. His sense of honor was no less than yours, I deem. I wonder where he came from, and what madness drove him from his home…and whether he was really very evil at heart." He turned to Frodo. "War will make corpses of us all. And so we shall find out more about you," he said. "Guards! Blindfold them, bind their hands, and take them! We are going back."

* * *

Adelaide sat up in bed, gasping.

Frodo had connected with her mind, harshly, savagely. He was in pain, and needed comfort badly. Something was wrong. He was not hurting physically, but there was something wrong…something was disorderly in his journey. What was going on? She searched her memory, trying to think of everything that could possibly have happened. Were they at the part where…no, that wasn't it. They were in the "Two Towers" now. Not in the third book. But where? Could it be…but no, it was too early. Maybe it was…no, that happened a long time ago. What was he complaining about then?

Oh, maybe Faramir. That part was major. Shit, Adelaide wished she could be there to meet the man who was going to marry—oh, Adelaide hugged herself. She wished she didn't have to keep so damn secret!


	12. Hey Does This Guy Remind You of Boromir?

Chapter 12

Hey, Does This Guy Remind You of Boromir?

* * *

Frodo and Sam were led out of their little sunny glade, though they could not see where they were headed. They had been blindfolded and gagged, as the man named Faramir had deemed it should be, for he thought they were spies. Frodo found himself relying on his sense of sound once more, although for the most part his nerves interrupted his concentration. Where were they going? What was the man going to do to them? Was Sam alright? And where was Smeagol? A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind. What if the men were seeking the Ring? Were they enemies or friends of Barad dur? What would happen to himself and Sam?

_A great test lies before him..._

_The Ring is close...so close..._

So they were led along; Frodo by Sam's side, and guards hustling them along. The air turned from hot to cool, and then wind blew. It was bright, and then shaded. All was light, and then dark. Frodo could feel about him and barely smell the foliage differences in the land. At last he felt cool moisture touch his skin, and it seemed to him that there was a roaring of water, like a great fall. Then his feet pattered across cold hard wet stone, and he felt the thickness of air in a cave. He could smell water, and feel the tiny droplets in the air. Beside him, Sam was heaving and gasping for air, as best he could. Frodo tried to reach out and touch his friend's hand, but his arms were cruelly bound, and harshly.

_The Captain of Gondor has but to extend his hand, and the fate of Middle Earth is sealed..._

At last, the blindfolds and gags were taken off, and the hobbits found themselves in a great cavern, that was veiled by a small waterfall near the entrance. Men walked about carrying weapons, or else ran about doing chores and carrying charts. The man called Faramir had left them alone for a bit, and had walked over to a sad-faced, gray-haired old man, with plenty of tough skin on him. Faramir seemed greatly loved by the men, for they all hailed him with cheerful smiles. He greeted them, and then came to the man, Anborn.

"What news?" he asked in a low voice. From then on, Frodo could hear little of the conversation, except for Faramir's words, "How many?" and "Who's covering the River from the North?" And then he heard the crinkling of a map, and saw that Faramir bent over a table, studying a chart with Anborn and several other men. "Sauruman attacks from Isenguard," he remarked gravely. "Sauron attacks from Mordor. The fight will come to men on both fronts. Gondor is weak; Sauron will strike soon, and strike hard. He knows we do not have the strength to repel him."

And when that conversation had ended, Faramir looked over at the hobbits and strode towards them, a look of suspicion and easy-going carelessness on his face.

"My men tell me that you are orc spies," he said. Sam started.

"Spies! Now wait just a minute—!"

"Well then, if you are not spies, then what are you?"

"We are not spies," said Frodo, speaking with authority. "We are hobbits of the Shire. Frodo Baggins is my name, and this is Samwise Gamgee."

Faramir looked Sam over with contempt. "Your bodyguard?"

Sam bristled. "His gardener." He did not like the look of this man, nor his speech. He did not like the way he looked at him either, and especially the way he looked so at his master. Faramir shrugged.

"And where is your skulking friend? That gangrel creature. He had an ill-favored look."

Sam and Frodo both jumped to the same conclusion, but only Frodo felt it best to speak and try to lie about the matter.

"There was no other," he said firmly. Faramir looked hard at him, but did not seem to believe him. Frodo cleared his throat and tried again. "We set out from Rivendell with eight other companions," he said, figuring the math in his head. "One we lost in Moria. Two were my kin. A dwarf there was also, and an Elf, as well as a young woman and two men. Aragorn son of Arathorn and Boromir of Gondor."

"Boromir!" at the sound of that name, heads jerked up, and the crash of a cup could be heard. There was instant silence. Only Faramir did not seem as fazed, though his eyes wavered, and for a moment, Frodo saw genuine concern in the face of this man.

"Boromir," said Faramir, almost choking the name. "You were a friend of Boromir's?"

Frodo's memory lapsed into a fit of confusion. Who was this man that he should ask such a question? Boromir…the man who had been taken by the Ring…he had last seen him at Amon Hen, and the Ring had drove him mad. Insane. He had tried to take the Ring from him, for he thought he could use it in the service of Gondor. He had fought him…twisted legs and arms, screaming, blood pounding in the brain, and a foggy mist engulfing him before all burst, and stars were all that remained of such a memory. Frodo's lip trembled. What was he to say?

"Yes…for my part," he answered, trying to keep a steady voice. Faramir bit into him with a voice like daggers.

"It would grieve you to learn, then, that Boromir is dead."

"I would grieve indeed," said Frodo, and then he started. "Dead? How? When?"

"As one of his companions, I was hoping that you'd tell me," said Faramir, crossing his arms. Frodo stared back at him, dismay crossing his features.

"You're playing with me," he said, gasping. "Is he truly dead? No…but he was a strong member of our group, and surely not…! Dead? If something has happened to Boromir, we would have you tell us!"

Sam would have liked to leap for joy; he had never liked Boromir. But it was not the time to do that. Faramir glared at them.

"He was my brother," he said softly.

Frodo stared.

Faramir stared back.

Well, now that he mentioned it, Faramir did look a lot like Boromir. Younger, and more handsome, perhaps…and definitely slimmer. Sam felt that while Boromir had an air of kings, Faramid had an air of wizards. Still, it did not improve the overall image of this warrior. Faramir was closest kin to the one man who had attacked Sam's beloved master.

All Frodo could say was, "Oh."

There really wasn't a lot to be said about it.

Faramir then bade that the hobbits be unbound, and invited them to dine with him. Dinner topics were kept very selective, for Faramir did not ask very much, only of the Fellowship and their travels. He was especially interested in hearing about the Elves, and so eager was his curiosity, that Sam put his two cents in and gave a lush description of Galadriel. Frodo told of the beauty of Arwen. The two hobbits sat there, their shining faces reflecting those first meetings with such beautiful ladies.

"I understand," Faramir said thoughtfully. "That there was a young woman who accompanied you. They say she is a prophetess from another world and time. Do you know her? Tell me about her."

Frodo hesitated for a moment. This could be more than just a warrior's curiosity. Faramir was a man, and a—though Frodo hated to admit it—a handsome one, and single, too. But as if reading his mind, Faramir chuckled.

"You have nothing to fear from me, if your hesitation arises from an overly-protective heart. But one so much in love should be proud of such a lady, as I hear she is very well-admired wherever she goes. Did you know her fame has spread as far as Gondor? We learned of her from soldiers of Rohan, who came looking for her. She had done some evil, and they were looking to put her to death. I see this does not startle you? Perhaps she was innocent. Nonetheless, the riders painted such a glowing portrait, that my brother fell head over heels. I was astonished, for he's not the kind of man to fall so heavily in love. If she was in the company that set off from Rivendell, then indeed, her presence must have tortured poor Boromir to distraction."

Frodo did not reply. He knew this to be completely false, having heard the truth from Boromir's own mouth.

"Now, my father disliked the lady as soon as he heard of her, but we'll say nothing of that. He said some very insulting things I'd rather not repeat. At any rate, I was impressed. I hope I shall have a chance to meet her someday.

"Now, then!" he added, turning to another subject. "Tell me of Boromir. Explain his death. Can you tell me anything more than what you already have?"

"We were waylaid by orcs," Frodo said wearily. "I was separated from the Company…and it was the last time I saw Boromir. He must have been slain by the hundreds that assaulted us."

"It is possible," said Faramir. He was silent for a moment. "I cannot let you go now. There is too much going on here. I do not know whether you are spies or not, but my suspicions are high. Tonight you shall sleep here. In the morning, we shall talk more of this matter. Do not attempt to escape! There will be guards posted, and the rocks below have teeth that will slay you before your time."

"You need not worry," said Frodo, bowing. "We are indebted to you for your hospitality, and we feel no need of escape. If you are truly an honest man, as I deem you to be, then we need have no fear of you."

"Perhaps," said Faramir. "We shall see."

* * *

Aragorn wasn't too sure what had happened, but he knew one thing: his backside ached like hell.

Sitting atop of Brego, he tried to refocus his thoughts. He knew what had happened. But what he was doing now, besides riding a horse, he wasn't sure. Now, as he rode forth, he felt strength coming back to him, and he gripped the reins of Brego with life, blood rushing to all corners of his body. Riding hard, he sped back across the plains, planning on reaching Helm's Deep, and aiding his friends.

* * *

Adelaide was trying to find the warm spot in her room again when Grima Wormtongue entered. She stood up straight and glared at him, her anger running high. She was surprised, then, when he bowed to her and beckoned her to follow.

Her gown rustled as she walked. Adelaide was uncomfortable to see that all the servants about Isenguard bowed to her, and even the orcs cast their heads down in respect. She didn't understand what all the fuss was about. Surely Sauruman knew that she could never be tempted by such honors. She was unused to such things in America.

Grima led her to the off-limits tower, where Sauruman stood by the window. The room was dimly-lit, with instruments of torture, books of lore, and many different objects of scientific experimentation. Adelaide stood in the middle of the room, frowning. Sauruman turned to her.

"You look enchanting, my queen," he purred, taking up her hand and kissing it. Adelaide was baffled. What the hell was all this about? Sauruman looked her up and down. "Yes, riches become you. I do not suppose you ever looked in a mirror while wearing your horrible American clothing, and dreamed of what you might look like, garbed in such wonderful attire fit for a ruler of all the world!"

"That's because normally I don't rule the world; I'm making runs to Wal-Mart," Adelaide said dryly. "If I was rich enough to rule the world, I'd be living in Italy, with my own fashion designer."

Sauruman ignored her. "I want to tell you why I've chosen this method of…torture, as you quaintly put it. Surely you realize, as I do, that you have a power which is very strong. It has brought you here to Middle Earth, and gives you a higher hold over even the King, should he ever come to the throne of Gondor…though that is hardly probable. I tell you this because, with right training and experience, I can help you become the most powerful lady in all of Middle Earth…higher even than the Lady of the Golden Wood. You can become as an empress, lady, if you but let me help you unlock all that treasure. And I will do this for you if you but tell me the secret I wish to know. Only then can you be able to save the ones you love."

_And be your little marionette_, Adelaide thought to herself angrily. She had heard some pretty far-fetched praises before, but this was truly the absolute limit. Who did this stupid old man think he was? Did he actually think she'd fall for such nonsense?

"I'm not interested in your offer," she snapped. "I take all my college courses in New Hampshire, thanks."

Sauruman gripped his staff, and seemed to grope desperately for patience. "Even now, I can halt what is about to start, if you but tell me the Ending! Tell me what I need to know!"

"What are you doing?" Adelaide grabbed up her skirts and hurried to the window. Sauruman was leaning overtop a railing of the balcony, and it faced the direction of Helm's Deep. A rising sun was already beginning to become blotted out by the black smoke rising from the pits below.

"Behold!" he cried, moving his staff across the black below. "The army of Isenguard!"

The black below was a thousand or more Uruk-hai and orcs, all congregated and in perfect line formation, helmets, gear and weapons all ready for battle. Spears and ragged banners they had, and their shouts for the lust of war were terrible to hear.

Adelaide was not the only one looking down with disgust, confusion, and malice. To her left, Grima Wormtongue was staring out. "I do not understand," he said, with a look of amazement upon his face, suddenly, as if he had been hit with an anvil. "All of Rohan could never survive beneath the force of this! Why are there so many soldiers? This is no fair fight! Theoden and all his people…Eowyn…they will be massacred, even the children."

Sauruman turned oce more to Adelaide. "Will you trust in your 'hope,' lady?" he sneered. "Or will you call off this massacre, as Wormtongue rightfully calls it? Tell me everything, and this army shall fall as though it never existed." He put an arm around her bare shoulders. "Come, come," he said tenderly. "I understand this decision is difficult. Your loyalties to your friends is admirable. But they will thank you later, when the Hornburg remains untouched. Mothers and their sweet little infants will bless your head. The men will be able to make love to their wives. You shall see your own lover again, safe and sound, and have children in abundance. Will you not do this thing for me? I ask so small a favor."

Adelaide closed her eyes and wished herself a thousand miles away. The air was so silent you could hear a pin drop. And then, when she opened her eyes, her mouth was dry, and she was shaking her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. No, she would say nothing. That's how Tolkien would want it.

Sauruman left her in a rage. He looked out at his army. "A new power is rising!" he bellowed. "Victory is at hand! The land will be stained with the blood of Rohan!"

"Feodral, do something!" hissed Grima in panic, latching onto her arm. "Do not let him kill Eowyn! For the sake of your friend, tell him, for Valar's sake, tell him what he wants to know!"

She shook free of him, her face a mask of disgust. It wasn't HER fault he was in this stupid mess! Grima ran back to the window in horror. The wind snuffed his candle out, and then a single tear ran down his cheek, as he watched with large and dilated eyes, the future destruction of Helm's Deep…and the woman he had lusted after.

"To War!" bellowed Sauruman. Adelaide clenched her fists. Something boiled up inside her, something she'd known before, but not in such forceful power. Her brain spun out of control, throwing guards left and right, tossing furniture around the room, and destroying all the instruments and experiments. She could not kill Sauruman, as hard as she wished she could. What kind of an imagination did this to a human being…rendered them so destructive and abusive?

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the tornado of activity died, and Adelaide fell to the floor on her knees. Her face crumpled in helpless rage and anger. Why, oh why could she not help? Why did she have to keep such secrets?

"It's not fair!" she screamed. "_It's not fair_!"

Sauruman stood over her, a sly smile taking over his features like a victorious general in battle.

"Is that all you have to offer me?" he sneered. "For it is enough. If that is but a taste of the power you offer, there is now no reason whatsoever why I should let you go…nor any reason why Sauron should not have a look at his noble adversary. Gandalf thinks he has found the King of Men. But I have found something much rarer…and all the more valuable."

"It's not fair," she whispered again, crying into her hands. "It's just…not…fair."

"Life isn't fair, my pet, and you will have to accept that," Sauruman gave a nasty leer. Behind him came Wormtongue, crawling like a dog, staring at her as if he had never seen her before. He was probably furious with her…after all, for him, she had spelled out Eowyn's death-sentence. Adelaide coughed, and suddenly retched on the stone floor. Blood splattered her face and gown, leaving shiny droplets on the polished surface. She blinked. Why did she always have to cough up blood whenever she lost control of her mind? It hadn't happened for months! Something was going on. The two were inseparably linked. Blood, imagination. Blood, imagination. Well, what the fuck was happening?

"So," Sauruman whispered. "You are ill."

She said nothing.

"Guards."

Orcs came and stood beside her.

"See to it that you put her back into her room. And make certain she does not leave it. We'll see," he rubbed his hands together. "Whether or not she will want to talk very soon."

* * *

In Ithilien, the moon shone above the clouds, beaming her silver tresses upon the little woodland kingdom where Faramir had made his dwelling. Here she abided and loved to walk among the men, flaunting her silver hair and soft love in front of them. What man could not love the moon, light of the night, and gift of Illuvatar? Stars were only second thought to men, for the moon was great and white, beautiful as any maiden could ever be…and she guided their steps along narrow footholds.

Faramir, Captain of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien stood looking out of the cave. The walls were shining with the pattern of the moon-lit water. Tranquil and quiet was everything, and the blue stars danced over his face, like a mariner at sea in his berth, or in his boat at twilight, when all is calm. He was remembering backwards into time, when so long ago, his brother Boromir had been with him…good old Boromir, his big brother and fun sibling…

The crowds were massed below the tower of Gondor, and the city was gleaming, white, and spread out in all its shining glory. Flags raised above the ramparts were the most beautiful sight, and there were silver horns sounding in the distance. So many people thronged, and one could see the helms of the many soldiers who had fought and died for their country. Blessed Gondor! And there at the top of the tower stood a figure, broad in build, but shining in face and dressed in the armor of Gondor. He held a sword in one hand and in the other he placed the white flag of his home on top of the tower. His golden hair shone in the sunlight, and his mighty voice sprang out like the bells of Notre Dame on a morning of dawn.

"Boromir! Boromir!" the people had taken up the chant.

_She walked among them, and listened to them. It was a welcome reprieve from the horrors of Isenguard, to go on these running dreams and meld into the past, to see the thoughts and dreams of others. There was no blood here. Here she observed. _

"This city was once the jewel of our kingdom!" roared Boromir. "A place of light and beauty and music! And so it shall be once more!"

A roar came from the crowd, and people shook their silver swords in answer. A great cheer rang clear, and Boromir yelled again.

"Let the armies of Mordor know this: never again, will the land of my people fall into enemy hands! The city of Osgiliath has been reclaimed! For Gondor!

"For Gondor!" cried the crowds.

"For Gondor!

"For Gondor!

"_For Gondor!"_

"_For Gondor!"_

And then in a flash, he had come down, and Faramir, now simply dressed, had run towards him, and both had embraced heartily. They were so close to each other; they loved one another like true brothers should.

"Good speech, brother," said Faramir. "Nice and short."

"Leaves more time for drinking!" laughed Boromir. "Hoy there! Break out the ale! These men are thirsty!"

You never heard such an uproar.

_That reminds me. I miss my Diet Coke. _

Boromir and Faramir toasted with their mugs. Boromir smiled at his sibling.

"Remember today, little brother! Today…life is good."

Suddenly, Faramir stopped, and his face grew worried and cold. Boromir stopped drinking to look at him.

"What?"

"He is here," said Faramir, and Boromir turned. To his complete annoyance, there was Denethor, his father, coming at him from the crowds. Gray was his hair, like unshorn goats trailing down a mountainside. His eyes were hooded and tired, but a fierce joy burned in them, the kind of joy that is possessive and obsessive.

"Where is he? Where is Gondor's finest? Where is my firstborn?"

Boromir audibly murmured, "One more moment of peace; can he not give us that?" But then he turned and greeted his father with a false smile. "Father!"

"Ah-ha! They say you vanquished the enemy almost single-handed!" Denethor came and embraced his son. Boromir stood stiffly, but finally wriggled away and turned.

"The people exaggerate. The victory belongs to Faramir also!"

Faramir stood up straight and smiled at his father, hoping deep inside for some sort of praise. After all, he had fought hard, too, no less deserving of any thanks. Though he loved and was never jealous of Boromir, Faramir longed for the kind of praise he received from Denethor.

Dear ol' dad might as well have been an icicle. "But for Faramir, Osgiliath would still be standing," he said coldly. "Were you not entrusted to protect it?"

Faramir swallowed. "I had too few men," he said. "And the enemy numbers were increasing."

"Bah!" Denethor spat. "You let the enemy walk in and take it on a whim. Always you cast a poor reflection on me."

Faramir's eyes turned downwards, and his hands felt numb about his mug.

_Never mind that old buffalo, Faramir. He's not the one who'll marry a hot blonde and end up alive at the end of the story!_

"You give him no credit, and yet he tries to do your will," said Boromir miserably, and stalked away. Denethor gave Faramir a nasty look, and then trod after his son.

"He loves you, father!" cried Boromir when he had turned, and saw his father there behind him.

"Do not trouble me with Faramir; I know his uses, and they are few. Come, we have more urgent things to speak of. Elrond of Rivendell has called for a meeting."

Boromir looked up. Elrond of Rivendell was like Santa Claus; mysterious and really, really neat. Elves were considered odd and yet wondrous in Gondor, although the old legends were barely kept alive.

"He has not said why, but I have guessed the purpose of this meeting," continued Denethor. "It is rumored that the weapon of the enemy has been found."

Boromir caught his breath. "The One Ring!"

_Gads, here we go again!_

"It has fallen into the hands of the Elves!" hissed Denethor. "Everyone will try to claim it. Men, dwarves, Elves, wizards. We cannot let that happen."

_Maaaaaaaaaaan, he has some serious issues too!_

"This thing must come to Gondor,"

"To Gondor!" Boromir looked at his father as if he were crazy.

"It's dangerous, I know," said Denethor, with a wave of his hand. "Ever the Ring will seek to corrupt the hearts of lesser men, but you! You are strong! And our need is great. It is our blood that is being spilled; our people are dying. Sauron is biding his time. He is massing great armies. He will return, and when he does, we will be powerless to stop him. You must go to Rivendell! Bring me back this mighty gift!"

Boromir shook his head and nearly saw stars. Rivendell? That was hundreds of miles away, and he did not want to leave now…not now!

"No!" he cried. "My place is with my people!"

"Would you deny your own father?" asked Denethor.

"There's no need to," said Faramir, who had overheard the conversation. "Send me to Rivendell, father!"

"You?" chuckled Denethor. "Oho, I see. A chance for Faramir to prove his quality. Bah! I think not. I entrust this mission only to your brother, the one who will not fail me."

_Actually, maybe Faramir should have gone._

And then the scene grew hazy. The last thought of Faramir was his brother richly dressed, atop his steed and looking northwards, his brow troubled, but his eyes shining. He looked down at Faramir, and he saw the turmoil in his brother's mind. A great blank seemed to be between them, and Boromir swallowed.

"Remember today, little brother," he said bitterly, his whole face nearly scrunching. Was that a tear in his eye? But then he rode away, and Faramir stood alone, watching his brother for the last time.

Remember?

How could one forget?

And then Faramir was sitting alone by himself in Ithilien, while the moon continued to flaunt herself. Suddenly, one of his men came to him, bent, and whispered in his ear. Faramir looked grim, but stood and walked to where the hobbits lay.

* * *

Aragorn rode hard over the plains. He knew he was making good time, by watching the sun and his shadow, and did not stop for anything. His whole body was bent on getting back to Helm's Deep and rejoining the group. But as he pounded the road, he stopped and stared. He could not believe his eyes. From far away, it only seemed to be a dot of black on the horizon, but as it neared, it seemed like a swarm of hungry black ants. It grew closer and closer until Aragorn could dimly make out weapons, helmets, and a lot of ugly Uruk-hai.

"Damn." And that was as strong as his vocabulary could get, at the moment, thanks to a no-good little idiot who'd gotten herself captured by the enemy.

Now he rode harder than ever, and Brego carried him to where he needed to go. Soon he caught glimpse of Helm's Deep, a tall fortress backed against the mountains, a refuge in times of war, but inevitably a suicide trap. So sturdy did it look, however, that for a moment, Aragorn considered really just battening down the hatches and waiting until the storm passed over. But these Uruk-hai were of Sauruman's doing, and there was sure to be trouble before long, so he had to get back, as best he possibly could.

So he rode into Helm's Deep, oblivious to the calls and remarks, "He's alive!" As he dismounted his horse, he heard a great voice pushing through the crowd, "Let me through! Where is he? I'm going to kill him!" Gimli practically threw himself on his best friend. He embraced Aragorn, who gave a slight "oof!" as he was nearly hoisted off the ground, and then Gimli led him to the doors of a great room where the king dwelled, making plans. "You are the most ridiculous, stupid, reckless man I have ever known," the dwarf said cheerily. "Bless you, laddie!"

And when Aragorn pushed open the great doors and walked into the king's presence, King Theoden looked up, jaw agape, and could say nothing. But Aragorn bowed, and then walked past him to Legolas, who met him near some archways. The Elf looked him up and down, relief spreading to his features. But there was sternness in his voice.

"_Le abdollen_," he said. "You're late."

Aragorn stared at him, hardly able to believe what he had just heard. Legolas gave him a concerned look.

"You look terrible," he finished. Aragorn smiled, and let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," he said, patting his friend upon the shoulder. But then, Legolas held out his hand, and Aragorn looked into the white palm. There lay the Evenstar. Legolas had kept it for his friend, safe from harm. Aragorn took it, and looked up into the Elf's face. Legolas was giving him a large smile, and a teasing, man-to-man kind of look. Aragorn nodded, and then bowed his head, rather afraid that tears would soon flood the room.

"I have some bad news for you," he said gently.

But at that moment, Eowyn, who had been doing some laundry, came into the room, and as she looked up, she beheld Aragorn, alive, and right as he turned, too. She gave a cry of joy and surprise, dropped her basket, and ran to him, giving him the biggest embrace of his known life. Aragorn smiled behind the hug. Well, at least it felt nice to be alive.

He walked out with King Theoden to survey the fortress. Legolas, Gimli, and Gamling came with them. The first thing that Aragorn had done was relate the fact that Adelaide was in a hell of a lot of trouble, but that they couldn't do much at the moment except fend off an attack from the massive host of Uruk-hai. Theoden paced to and fro.

"A great host, you say?" he asked.

"Ten thousand strong, my lord," said Aragorn heavily.

Theoden stared. "Ten thousand?" He could not believe what he was hearing.

"They will be here by nightfall," said Aragorn. "And it is an army bred for a single purpose. To destroy the race of men." Theoden shrugged, his face burning with resolute character.

"Let them come!" he cried. "I want every man and strong lad ready for battle by nightfall!"

Aragorn stared. He couldn't be serious. The army he had seen was too much for all who dwelled within Helm's Deep. It was not possible to round up a decent army without even strong men to fight! Old men and boys…what would they, could they do against the Uruk-hai? The idea was insane! But Theoden was actually planning things as he went along.

"We will cut off the causeway and the gate from above. No army has ever breeched the Deeping Wall, or set foot inside the Hornburg."

"I don't think you understand," grunted Gimli. "These are not mindless orcs. These are Uruk-hai! They stop at nothing, for their arms are strong, and their shields are broad!"

Theoden turned to stare at him. "I have fought many wars, master Dwarf," he said coldly. "I know how to defend my own keep!" As they marched around, Theoden kept on talking. "They will break upon this fortress like water on rock. Sauruman's hordes will plunder and burn. We have seen it before; crops can be re-sown, homes rebuilt. Within these walls, we will outlast them."

Aragorn stared at him. "This is not about crops!" he cried. "This army means to murder everyone, leaving none alive! It means to destroy mercilessly!"

Theoden looked him in the eye, as if daring him to say something more. "What would you have me do?" he cried. "Look at my men! Their courage hangs by a thread. If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end to be worthy of remembrance."

Aragorn tried again. "The army is weak! You must call for aid!"

Theoden nearly spat into Aragorn's face. "And who will come? Elves? Dwarves?" he indicated Legolas and Gimli. "We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead."

"Then call upon Gondor—"

"Gondor!" Theoden spat. Old memories revived from something I really don't know a whole lot about, Theoden was incised. "Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell? Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us? Where was Gon—!" he stopped. He seemed to be struggling inside his mind, for in his heart, he knew that Aragorn was truly a man of Gondor, and a future king, though he did not like to admit it. He bit his lip. "No, my lord Aragorn!" he said quietly. "We are alone."

* * *

Treebeard had been walking for quite a while and now stopped with Merry and Pippin in a small clearing in the forest, where the sun shone down upon a rock pointed in the shape of a finger, noting the point where the sun rose in the east.

"We Ents have not troubled about the wars of men and wizards for a very long time," he was telling the hobbits. "But now something is about to happen that has not happened for an age. Entmoot."

Merry looked down at him. "What's that?"

"It is a gathering."

"A gathering of what?" asked Pippin. And then they heard the noise. Like silent thunder falling in the sky, like branches cracking and leaves rustling, they heard the soft and heavy footsteps of the Ents as they came out from the forest. They were all shapes and sizes, all of them various ages, and all with wonderful features about them that made them seem weirder than life. But Treebeard nodded, as they all piled into a circle.

"Beech…oak…chestnut…ash…good, good, many have come. Now we must decide whether the Ents…will go…to war."

* * *

Frodo's hand strayed out to the left of him to stroke along the backside of Adelaide, where she should have been…right next to him. He knew how much she loved to be touched and caressed, especially on the back. But when he could not feel anything, he opened his eyes, sighed, and tried to settled back down into a peaceful dream. Faramir had given them leave to sleep there, and so he and Sam were trying to sleep on the ground, on top of blankets. Sam was fast asleep, and Frodo was doing his best to sleep as well. But it was hard to do so, when thoughts of his Adelaide kept invading his brain.

_Why did she invade his mind like that, like some kind of naughty sprite, her legs, curves, breasts, and eyes taking over his mind and thoughts and dreams…_

_Her breath was in his ear, she panted his name into his hair as he slid between her legs and drew his tongue over the delicate flower down there, up and over the soft whiteness above, and over her belly, between her breasts, near her throat, slipping between her lips to tangle with her own tongue, eagerly, hungrily…_

_The way she moaned and arched into his embrace, as if he were the most powerful creature to make her feel the most incredible feeling ever…his fingers slipped down to her skirt, lifted it up to her waist, and tied it behind her back so he could slip his fingers deep into her moist, heated center while she stood in the kitchen, trying to bake bread…she baked his fingers instead. _

_She slipped up behind him in the meadow, teasing him with a full garment…and no underwear. Oh she played with his mind, played with him in his fantasies, ate every inch of him and set him on fire with a single glance from those gray eyes. Her body pressed against his as they danced at an autumn festival. Her glances were sly. "Take me to the back of that tent and fuck me among the prize pumpkins," they said. "Take me down to the river and come swimming with me…"_

_If he was feeling particularly interested, he would do anything to find her, no matter where she was…once, he found her at the Green Dragon, and dragged her out back to let her fumble with buttons, hooks, and clasps as she shoved off his breeches, hiked up her skirt, and let him rub against her in anticipation. She was very good about biting her lips so as not to make a lot of noise. _

_I want to dive into her and never come out_.

* * *

Suddenly, there was a thud, and Frodo opened his eyes to see a booted foot ten inches from his face. He looked up. Faramir was looking down at him, his arms crossed. Frodo bit his lip. He hoped that he hadn't cried out in his sleep. But no, Faramir beckoned to him.

"You will come with me now," he said tonelessly.

Frodo got up (now painfully aware that he was rather stiff in the southern regions) and followed Faramir. To his surprise, they came out of the cave onto a rocky ledge. Frodo pressed close to the side, for a nasty drop lay over the edge, and he looked about. The moon shone eerily over the tops of the trees, and far away in the distance could be seen purple mountains, wallowing in a sea of mist. Smoke and mist rose from the bottom of the drop, and formed droplets of water on Frodo's brow. The waterfall hummed silently.

"Down there," said Faramir. "Look!"

His outline was framed against the moonlit sky. Frodo moved closer, afraid to look, and yet afraid to disobey. Down below, there crawled Gollum, upon the rocks of a little pool. He appeared to be looking for fish, for he soon dived into the water and fished about until he came out with one in his hand. He seemed to be singing a weird little song, smacking the fish against the rock to the beat of his song. Faramir turned to Frodo, an expression of irony upon his face.

"The penalty to enter the forbidden pool is death," said Faramir, as if he had known all along that Gollum was one of Frodo's companions. He looked around, and Frodo followed his gaze. Everywhere, hidden in the trees and shrubs were men with arrows. Gollum would get stuck full of pins like a hedgehog. And Frodo needed his guide. But what to tell Faramir? That he had lied before? What would happen?

"Shall I give the word?" asked Faramir, mockingly.

"Wait," said Frodo. Faramir had his hand halfway in the air, but he put it down, interest crossing his features. Frodo looked at him. "This creature is bound to me, and I to him," he said. "He is our guide! Please, let me go down to him."

Faramir nodded, and Frodo came down the winding way, coming over and stopping five feet from Gollum, who had not the slightest idea he was there. The pathway was slippery and wet; terribly awful for Frodo, who was terrified that one false move would send him to hell with pins in his side. Gollum was oblivious to all this. He was munching on his fish, raw, and the sound was sick to listen to, but Frodo tried his best to keep his bile down.

"Smeagol!" he called, his stomach turning flips. "Smeagol, come! Master is here!"

Gollum looked up at Frodo, his eyes big. "We must go…now?" he asked.

"Yes, Smeagol, come! Follow master! Come on, that's it! Smeagol! You must trust master! Come on, Smeagol! That's it," he said, as Gollum plodded along behind him like a dog, his fish hanging out of his mouth. "Good Smeagol. Nice Smeagol. That's right. Follow master."

Gollum was halfway to Frodo before something unexpected happened. He stopped, his eyes still on Frodo, and then he dropped his fish, his ears listening. In another heartbeat, however, Faramir's men had come up, quick as thinking, and had grabbed Gollum. Such a fuss you never heard, as Gollum wailed, flailed, bit and screamed. Frodo tried to interfere; tried to comfort Gollum.

"Smeagol! Smeagol listen to me; Smeagol, don't struggle! You must trust master!"

"Masster!" shrieked Gollum. "Masster!"

Frodo felt like a dog.

He plodded behind the men, as they put a bag about Gollum's head and led him off, still screaming. As he passed Faramir, the man gave him a look of contempt. Frodo bit his lip. He had lied. He had been forced to tell the truth. And now he was faced with being a terrible, cruel idiot who had just betrayed someone who did not need that. Faramir grabbed hold of him.

"I know not what you thought of," he said coldly. "But it was wrong to lie in this matter."

Frodo had to agree. He agreed even more when he and Sam were flung into a cellar, lined with wine barrels. The place stunk like a thousand years, and the air was stale. Sam sat up, groaned, and rubbed his eyes.

"What was that about?" he asked. Frodo shook his head, his eyes misting.

"They found Smeagol," was all he could say. Sam looked a little happy, but he could not show it. Frodo was looking ill; his face was paste-white, and his lips were purple. His eyes were now larger than ever, and a cold sweat had broken over his body.

_They will question Smeagol. They will find out about the Ring. And who knows what will happen next? What am I to do?_

Meanwhile, Gollum was being treated horribly. The men kicked him and beat him with their fists, and he would scream and holler until finally Faramir held up his hand.

"That's enough!" he said. Gollum scrambled for cover under a ledge.

"What is your name?" asked Faramir harshly. "And where are you leading them?"

Gollum's choking and crying and sniffling was truly pitiful. But out from nowhere, there came a hated voice.

"_Smeagol_…why does it cry, Smeagol?"

"They hurts us! They beats us and hurts us! Master tricks us!"

"I told you he was tricksy! I told you he was false!"

"No…not master!"

"Answer me!" demanded Faramir.

"No…no! Not its business! Leave us alone! We doesn't know…we promises…yes, we promise, never to come back…never look again, no, precious! Leave us alone!"

Suddenly, Gollum sat straight up and beat his fists against the rock. "Curse them! Curse them! The little, filthy thieves! They stole it from us!"

Faramir looked at him, intently. "What did they steal?" he asked, his heart pounding. Gollum turned.

His eyes were a mass of writhing flames, and his face had gone white out of anger. The men stepped back a pace; the creature's body was taut, and every muscle stood out.

"_My_…_PRECIOUS_! _AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH_!"


	13. Why Is It Always Raining?

Chapter 13

Why is It Always Raining?

* * *

Thoughts swirled around Frodo's head until it seemed as if they no longer mattered. His whole heart seemed to be chewed up; his soul was weakening. The Ring was a crushing burden, ever so heavy and terrible! A great wheel of fire could be seen at times, and now was just such a time. Frodo swallowed. He wanted to lay down and cry, wanted to lay down and dream himself back into the Shire, with Adelaide. He wanted her, wanted her so badly, because it was killing him; the weight was killing him; and the wait was killing him. He curled up, and put his head into his arms upon his knees.

Up above, they could hear Gollum weeping and screaming. The opposite sides of him seemed to be arguing again, something they had not heard in a long time. But then a frightful, long, drawn-out scream emerged, bringing chills to the hobbits' backs. Sam turned to Frodo.

"Mr. Frodo, we have to escape," he said frantically. "We have to get out of here. You have to use the Ring! Just this once. Put it on. You can escape. Disappear!"

Frodo turned to him. His head seemed to be on a single string as it lolled back, and the eyes glued themselves to Sam. The dizziness and weight of the Ring was crushing. It was calling for Faramir's hand…it wanted the man to find it; it wanted another victim of men. With a great effort, Frodo shook his head.

"No, Sam," he said quietly. "It would be wrong…I can't do it. You were right, Sam. It has taken me. I can feel it's weight…such a burden, Sam! The Ring has taken me…you were right all along. You tried to tell me."

Sam looked at his friend quietly. He could not say otherwise; he knew that such a task was meant for his master, and he had to fight it, resist it, and bear the burden in silent suffering. Sam had no idea what his master was suffering, but as he looked at Frodo, his face mirrored the concern and the pain that his master was feeling. He was here without Adelaide. He was hungry. He was thirsty. And he was pitted against people two times his size. What would happen to the Ring; what would become of them?

In a few minutes, Faramir came and answered their questions all in one stride. Sam and Frodo leapt to their feet, Sam on the defensive, and Frodo not really caring about what happened to him anymore. Faramir unsheathed his sword, and they heard the metallic ring of silver. Faramir then pointed the blade at Frodo's throat, and let it travel down to the folded part of his shirt, where the chain lay. Faramir's blade caught upon the chain, and he drew forth the Ring, which had been tucked in Frodo's shirt, close to his breast. Faramir did not smile. His eyes had a hungry, faraway look to them, and Frodo was reminded so much of Boromir that he had to swallow in order to keep from running away. He felt rooted to one spot.

"So!" said Faramir softly. "This is what all the fuss has been about. The answer to all the riddles. And now I learn of it. Here I have you, two halflings in the wilderness, and a hundred men at my command…the One Ring, within my grasp…a chance for Faramir, captain of Gondor, to prove his quality."

Faramir's eyes bored boles into Frodo's chest, just by merely looking upon that hated hoop of gold; his eyes flickered with a fierce light.

Frodo felt himself grow dizzy, and his mind felt as if it were swamped by many terrible images: Boromir struggling at him, nearly killing him with a sweaty, rank weight; too harsh for a small hobbit to bear; the hateful eyes, coming at him, and then the Eye itself, of Sauron, for it burned again, and called out to Faramir. Frodo could hear it. The images swirled around a confused and muddled mind. Filled with blood to the point of bursting, Frodo's mind could comprehend only one thing: a thief wanted the Ring. His face twisted.

"NO!" bellowed the little hobbit, and jerked away, thrashing out with his arm and knocking Faramir's blade to one side. He backed against the stone wall of the cave cellar, and there huddled, weeping softly inside his mind. Soft hands took hold of his; though he thought it was just the wind, those hands caressed and stroked; they did not leave him for a minute. They longed to stay and be with him.

_Frodo, it's okay I'm here. _

Faramir was so startled, that he forgot to yell back. But Sam stepped forward, his face scrunched up in pain for his master.

"Stop it!" he cried. "Leave him alone! Don't you understand? He's got to destroy it! That's where we're going…to Mordor! It's such a burden! Please! Will you not help him?"

Sam's plea, which would have made an orc cry, had no effect on the heart of Faramir. Would it have been greedy or not, his heart would not listen to Sam's plea. The Ring had taken a firm grasp on his mind. And why not? Why shouldn't it have? Boromir was one thing, but Faramir was tempted more easily, for indeed, his father would have liked this thing…this gift to the foes of Mordor. He stared at Frodo for some time.

Anborn came up behind him.

"Lord Faramir," he said. "The men at Osgiliath have need of our aid; it is under attack. They need reinforcements. Will you not come?"

"I shall," said Faramir, but his voice was totally different. "And I will not be going quite alone."

He sheathed his sword. Sam stared at him, and then walked to Frodo. He laid a hand on his arm. He longed to rock and comfort his master with everything he had, even his body, but there was nothing he could do. And Faramir was not going to let them go, nor help his master. He had that terrible feeling.

Faramir pressed his face close. "The Ring will come to Gondor," he hissed.

* * *

Back at Isenguard, Adelaide was trying to dream the best that she possibly could. Another running dream to Ithilien had been most refreshing, especially since she could see and be near Frodo. And yet it had been painful to watch him struggle.

"He shouldn't have to struggle alone, and just with Sam," she muttered to herself. "Damn it, why didn't I come along? Oh, that's right. I wasn't supposed to be a temptation. Well, fuck that. I'm getting out of here."

She got up and felt for the weak spot in her room again. She had to get out and away that night. She just had to! Never mind the fact that she didn't have a horse. She had to try and make it on foot.

"Please, God, help me," she begged silently. "Get me out of here."

* * *

Meanwhile, in Helm's Deep, there was some serious construction going on. Night was falling quickly, and every man and able-bodied boy was gearing up for the battle ahead.

Now Helm's Deep truly was a fortress to behold, being made of solid stone built into the mountainside. It was not permeable in any place, and for many years, Rohan had won victory after victory because of that place. It was backed against the mountainside in a little canyon, so to speak, and the only way out was a mountain pass that led into the mountains. So grand did it look that one would think it was indestructible after all. But in fact, it was not. Should an army penetrate it, the only escape route was a pass into the mountains. There was only one way to go. It literally was suicide.

But Theoden seemed to know what he was doing. All the women and underage children went underground into the caves, which Gimli later complained about.

"I think we ought to go see them," he said, poking Legolas. "Then you would have nothing to say of Elvish Beauty! The caves are a wonder to behold, my Elf friend, and you will be pleased to see them. Lights, Legolas, many lights we should make, if I were to be lord of those caves. And we would tend the stone, chipping away little by little, until a new cave of wonders was built. It would be so beautiful, if you could only see the spirals of great translucence, like the living hands of Queen Galadriel. And you should like the air—not stuffy is it, but rather free and beautiful."

"Almost you make me want to see these caves," said Legolas. "Come, let us make a deal: if you will come to Fangorn Forest with me, I shall come to the glittering caves with you."

"Ah, lad, that's not fair. _You_ come to the caves _first_, and then _I'll_ come to _Fangorn_."

"Why do I have to go through the caves first?"

"Because I mentioned them first."

"Oh, have it your way, then," said Legolas grudgingly. "But stick to your half of the bargain, O Short One."

"Depend on it, O Pointed-Eared One."

The preparations for battle went swiftly, but mournfully. There were so few young men to help guard the place. Young boys and old men took up their weapons—some in confusion and some with grim determination. The line of duty was stronger here than familial love and bonds.

As Aragorn and Gimli and Legolas made rounds checking things and viewing the layout of Helm's Deep, Eowyn suddenly approached Aragorn. Fire was in her eyes; she had just been given an order that she did not want to obey. She was flustered and angry, and so naturally looked to another master in command. Skirts swishing, she stalked up to Aragorn. He saw her, and smiled in welcome, but her look of cold fury changed his mind.

"My lady," he greeted her. Legolas and Gimli pretended to look elsewhere.

"My Lord Aragorn!" pouted Eowyn. "I have been sent to work in the caves as a maidservant!"

And…so..? "That is an honorable charge."

"To mind the children and care for the old and sick! To find bedding and food for the men when they return! What renown is there in that?" Eowyn actually would not have minded it so much if Adelaide had been there, but now the young lady was fairly certain her friend had been captured, and was leading a very valiant life at the moment. Eowyn wanted to do the same. She was sick and tired of being alone and having nothing to do but housework.

Aragorn wished that the world would get off his back. "There may come a time, lady, when such deeds will be needed more than the renown of all the soldiers," he said quietly. Eowyn folded her arms.

"But—let me fight by your side! Let me stand by you!"

"I have no authority over this matter," said Aragorn. "I cannot command you thus."

Eowyn felt tears arising. Illuvatar, even this man! Was she to be trapped in a world of pressing weights forever?

"The men go into battle because you are a model…an example," she said bitterly. "You do not ask the men to stay and fight. They do so not because they want glory…they do it…because they love you."

Whoops.

She had almost let it slip.

Suddenly, there was an awkward turtle between the two of them. Aragorn wished he could melt into the floor; Eowyn wanted to disappear. Finally, she gave him a nasty look and marched past him, nearly knocking Legolas and Gimli over. Aragorn passed a hand over his brow.

"Where is Adelaide when you need her?" he grumbled. Gimli laughed. But Legolas looked at the people around, his mind far away from any other troubles. Looking around at the folk who were laboriously burdened, his heart went out to them, and yet disgust was in his voice.

"Aragorn, they must rest! They're no use to us half-alive."

Aragorn said nothing. Legolas gritted his teeth. His nerves were shot. He had never felt such a loss of patience before. His heart was rent from top to bottom over the news of Adelaide, and now here were a bunch of mortal idiots about to get killed. The Elf felt helpless and powerless to do anything about either situation. Legolas didn't like the feeling. When not in control, his irritation rose to the surface. As Aragorn followed him about, the Elf looked, and saw the man observing progress.

"Nothing shall be accomplished," Aragorn muttered. "Carpenters, farmers, plowhands, stableboys…these are no soldiers."

"Many of these men have seen too many winters," Gimli said softly.

"Or too few," said Legolas, a frown upon his fair face. He walked apart from the group and muttered quietly to himself. Aragorn followed him, and Legolas suddenly jerked his head up to face the man. "Look at them! They're frightened. You can see it in their eyes."

At this, the room went deathly still. Aragorn paused and stared at the Elf. Never before had Legolas seemed so distressed and despairing. The Elf's face was torn up; his face was in pain. Obviously he did not like what he was seeing in the men of Rohan. He had never looked more disgusted.

"_Boe a hyn, neled herain…den caer menig_," spat Legolas. "And they should be, 300 against 10,000!"

Aragorn came and faced the Elf. "_Si beriathar hyn, ammaeg na ned Edoras_! They have more of a chance of defending themselves here than at Edoras!"

Legolas glared coldly. "_Aragorn, nedin dagor hen u'erir orthi. Natha daged_ _dhaer_! Aragorn, they cannot win this fight. They are all going to die!"

"Then I shall die as one of them!" roared Aragorn. His angry face pressed close to Legolas, who retreated a bit, looking slightly shaken. Aragorn glared a moment longer, and then stalked out. Legolas moved to follow him, but Gimli caught hold of the Elf's coat.

"Let him be, lad. Let him be."

Legolas gripped his hands. What was wrong with him? Aragorn had long been a leader; he had not led them astray; he had meant everything to the Fellowship. He had led them so far; what right had he to despair at this critical point in history? He sat down next to Gimli and tried to ignore the murmuring going around. He was painfully aware that he had probably just insulted a whole handful of old men and boys, but what did that matter? This was no fight they could win…was it?

Outside, Aragorn stormed onto the terrace, feeling like murdering a certain Elf. Besides, it was way too hot inside. A breath of fresh air would do him good.

As he sat down upon the steps, he reflected on what Legolas had said. By golly, it had made perfect sense, but for some odd reason, he wanted to defy that. He wanted to believe they could win. Looking about, he cast his eyes on a young man leaning over a fire, a sword in his hand. The young lad was dirty, grimy, and looked as if his hair could have used a decent washing, but his eyes were soft, and held a sadness in them that struck a chord in Aragorn's heart.

"Come here," he said to the lad. The lad looked over at him quickly, as if he couldn't believe his senses. But then he came over, and Aragorn stood. "Let me see your sword," he said. The boy gave it to him, and Aragorn clutched it. The blade was broad, and notched, but as he swung it about, with good skill, the fire came back into his eyes and heart, and he handed it back to the astounded boy.

"This is a good sword," he said. "What is your name?"

"Hallas, sir. Son of Hama."

Hama. The door warden, who had greeted Adelaide so jovially…

Aragorn knew that Hama was dead, killed by a warg. So this was his son. He looked into the eyes of the boy, who looked so lost and so sad…

"The men are saying that we will not last the night," said Hallas softly. Aragorn looked at the young man, and put his hands on his shoulder.

"There is hope for all," he said. "We shall do what we can."

He therefore decided to do what every other respectable person was doing, and get ready for battle. Determination set his grim features, and for once, in the glare of the room, he looked tall, proud, and kingly. He set a mail shirt about him, and girded himself with gloves, a belt, his trusty knife, and then looked about for his sword.

It was handed to him by Legolas.

The fair Elf of Mirkwood had on his face the same determination, and his features were now softer, though filled with excitement for the battle.

"You have led us this far; you have not led us astray," he said softly. "Forgive me. I was wrong to despair."

Aragorn smiled. "There is nothing to forgive, Legolas."

The two smiled, and slapped shoulders like schoolboys. At that moment, Gimli came through the doorway, wrestling with a shirt of chainmail, and growling.

"Confound this stupid thing, won't it go!" he growled. The mail dropped, and there he stood like a scarecrow, the mail ultimately hanging on him like a gown of silver. Gimli paused at the man and Elf's amused stare.

"It's a little tight in the chest," he remarked. Legolas chuckled, and Aragorn cocked his head, smiling.

All of a sudden, there came a noise like no other, and Legolas quickly looked up. It was the sound of a horn. Could the orcs be here so swiftly? But no, that sounded like—

"That is no orc horn!" he cried, excited, and ran out. Gimli and Aragorn followed.

* * *

In the forest of Fangorn, the sun had set, and the stars had come out as the night drew her velvet-dark cloak about her. Merry and Pippin were sleeping peacefully, waking up every so once in a while to listen to the droning voices of the Ents as they swayed back and forth. Their noises were low and varied; it was like listening to a score of exotic birds from tropical islands far away. At last, Merry thought to speak.

"It's been going for hours."

"They must have decided something," Pippin agreed.

"Decided?" Treebeard switched to English and looked over at the hobbits, who stood waiting expectantly. "No. We have just finished saying…good-morning."

The hobbits stared at each other incredulously.

"But it's nighttime already!" Merry protested. "You can't take forever!"

"Don't be hasty, Master Meriodoc," Treebeard chided.

"We're running out of time!" Merry hissed.

* * *

Meanwhile, up on the terrace, the men and young boys of Rohan watched in dumb delight and amazement as hundreds of figures marched toward them in perfect lines. Their armor, weapons, and banners gleamed in the moonlight. This was an army! But who had sent it? It could not be Gondor. It could certainly not be dwarves, or Elves…could it? And then they saw the fair and determined faces, the cloaks, and the weapons that this army bore, and upon their shields were Elf-runes. These were Elves. An Elven Army! But sent by whom?

_Oho, YES! The AFL!_

_(Not, by the way, the Arena Football League, but the Army From Lothlorien)_

Leading the army was none other than (surprise of surprises!) Haldir. Didn't think you'd see him again, did you? But there he was, in full army array, and as he approached the very astonished (and totally speechless) king of Rohan, he held up a hand, and the army stopped in place. Haldir smiled at Theoden.

"I bring word from Lord Elrond of Rivendell," he said. "We have come to fight."

"How comes this?" asked Theoden, finally able to work out the words. He remembered what he had said to Aragorn earlier, and he suddenly wished that he had held his tongue.

"Long ago, there was an alliance between men and Elves," said Haldir. He saw Aragorn coming up, as well as Legolas, and he smiled. "We come to honor that alliance."

Theoden did not quite know what to make of the situation (with Aragorn right there, and all) but Aragorn charged forward and bowed.

"You are most welcome!" he cried, and then, forgetting and putting aside all formalities, he hugged Haldir. The Elf had begun to spread his hands and arms in welcome, but when the man hugged him in a friendly manner, it was all he could do to keep from smiling and returning the embrace. Legolas came up behind him, and the two Elves greeted each other with smiles and shoulder-slaps.

_Haldir…I love you, sweetheart. If only this would happen more often. I'll never forget our make-up and apologies in Lothlorien…it seemed to long ago, but you don't forget. You're such a sweetie._

Theoden looked ready to cry out of sheer gladness.

* * *

Meanwhile, at Isenguard, our heroine was desperately thinking of ways to escape!

In clothing fit for a queen, Adelaide paced the floor, nearly wearing holes in it, and beating her brain for ideas. To escape the room was one thing, but to escape from the whole dark kitten-kaboodle was a whole different ball game. How does one escape from a basically escapeless place? Not to mention, how do you avoid bloodthirsty wargs and orcs, along with lusty Uruk-hai and one bad-rap wizard who had The #1 Bad Guy on his team? Things looked bleak. In fact, they couldn't have gotten worse.

But don't think I've jinxed the story yet!

At that moment, Grima Wormtongue entered the room. Adelaide wasn't the least bit happy to see him, of course, but the look on his face made her feel…well…sorry for him. He looked apologetic, even a little hurt. If you can imagine that of a worm. Worms don't have faces.

She opened her mouth to say something nasty, and the words died on her lips. She closed her mouth, feeling moody and bitchy, but unable to say anything, now. It was her own fault she had been captured, and it was not necessarily Grima's fault for the attack against Rohan. True, he had contributed, but even if he hadn't been the #1 spy, Sauruman would have found another, or done things on his own. Grima was wholly pitiable right now, and Adelaide, though she hated him, didn't have the heart to scold, bitch, or whine.

"Adelaide."

She jumped. Holy shit, Grima had just addressed her for the first time by her real name. It made her sit up and pay attention.

"Why did you not tell Sauruman what he desired to know? Everyone at Helm's Deep shall be massacred…Eowyn will be killed. Do you not love her?"

"Who says everyone's getting killed?"

"I do! I have told Sauruman everything of that place, the secret entrances, the weak places, and the vulnerable spots. I have laid out, in detail, every characteristic of that place—you know it to be a suicidal trap for those women and children."

"Well. Glad to know you have Helm's Deep down pat." She stared at him. "But…Eowyn won't be killed."

"You know this?" Grima's eyes widened. "She will be saved?"

Adelaide nodded.

"But…but why did you say nothing to Sauruman? How do you know I am not here to spy on you, make you say things you do not wish to say?"

"Call it feminine intuition."

"Can you blame me, Feodral, for my part in this? When we win this war, my prize shall be Eowyn. Do not begrudge me her."

"Even if I didn't, she'd rather die than fall into your arms. You must be ten feet thick in the brain, Grima. Women aren't trophies to take home after the baseball game. They're living creatures. We have a will. Sauruman can't make me tell him anything anymore than you could force Eowyn to love you." She considered him momentarily. "So, why don't you leave Sauruman?"

"I am bound to him!" snapped Grima. "Sauruman is powerful, and he will see that I am rewarded for my services."

Adelaide sighed. There was no use in trying to talk with a witless worm. "So why are you here?" she asked. "Just to pour out your woes, or what? You got something big to tell me?"

"I do," said Grima, and paused. "You may hate me, Feodral," he sneered softly. "You may not love me or look upon me with goodwill, and that is not surprising. But I can still make deals and bargains. Sauruman could cut off all your limbs, and you would still tell him nothing. I've no desire to have you on what is left of my conscience! No, don't speak. I don't want to listen to your simpering pity for me. I want none, and if you must know, I still hate you. But I will be glad to be rid of you! You have obviously discovered a 'leak' in the wall."

Adelaide nodded, trembling.

"It is a hidden door, Feodral, meant for secret things. Why Sauruman put an inquisitive brat like you in here I'll never know. But I want you gone, out of my life, and good riddance! Take that door, and begone—never trouble me again."

"Grima, where exactly does this door lead to?" asked Adelaide. She was slightly suspicious.

"A tunnel," he responded. "It leads into a tunnel that takes you under Isenguard and out through the mines, quite out of the orc range. You will have all the time you need."

"And why should I believe you? How do I know it's not a trap?"

"If it were a trap, Feodral, I would not be suggesting it," snarled Grima, which made no sense. "Just take it, and begone!" He stalked from the room.

* * *

Frodo was dragged, almost screaming, across the plains between Osgiliath and Ithilien…he had not the slightest clue that he was going so close to Gondor—but he did know that Faramir was not respecting his wishes. If the Ring should come to Gondor—in the hands of people who meant to use it as a weapon, even as Boromir had thought it to be, then all would be lost! Frightened and in desperate straits, Frodo was trying to struggle and cry out, but Faramir's men were strong and doughty men who did not let the little hobbit do much. Sam was right behind him, crying both mentally and physically at the way they were treating his master. Right behind them came Gollum, led on a leash by two men. His hands were tied, and he was whining worse than ever. He must have been very hurt indeed, both in body and spirit—Frodo knew that Gollum was now upset at him, looking upon his master as a traitor. And Faramir had treated him so rudely!

"Faramir!" he cried. "The Ring will not save Gondor! It can only bring destruction! Please, let me go!"

"Move on," said Faramir, undaunted. Frodo struggled in the grasp of his guard.

"Faramir!" he screamed. "You must let me go! Faramir!"

But the man's heart and mind were tuned only to one thing: proving his quality.

At last, they came to Osgiliath, which was quite in trouble. Frodo's eyes opened wide as he saw the terrible ruin that was being done to the garrison. Orcs and worse things were bombing the garrison with pieces of rock, catapulting the large pieces over the walls. Everything was totally in devastation…

* * *

"Okay," said Adelaide, pushing against the warmth of the wall. "This is it. This is the part where I make like Indiana Jones and escape the Nazis."

She pushed against the wall as hard as she could, and it gave a little. Warm air surged up around her face, and she welcomed it gladly. It was so cold in the room! Spirited on, she continued to push at the door, ready to break her body, her heart, her very soul to get out of Isenguard. And in her mind and heart, she reached out to Frodo at the same moment, comforting him. That spurred her on even faster!

_Hold on, Frodo. Hold on, darling angel mine! I'm doing my best!_

_

* * *

_

"You could have picked a better spot," grumbled Gimli, who was placed upon the wall of Helm's Deep right between two very tall Elves. One happened to be Legolas, who didn't intend to let his new friend out of his sight. Only the dwarf's helmet could be seen above the wall, being only a few inches higher than Legolas' waist. The other Elf said nothing, but Legolas' face broke out into a small smile. Gimli was so darn funny.

"And don't forget laddie, our new contest begins tonight," said Gimli. "And there's to be no cheating!"

"Shall I write the rules down?" asked Legolas. "I can remember them."

"Well, so can I!"

"Then do not preach."

The night was coming on, and now the lamps of the Uruk warriors burned even brighter as they surged forward, like a black ant mass. They were within kilometers of the Hornburg, and now one could hear their swearing, crying, and roaring. There were not weaklings in this battle. Only fighters, staunch and mean. They would not go in and have mercy on anyone, nor let anyone have his confessions or last words. And they would certainly not wait for a score settle. There would be a blood bath tonight for them, and it was this that they looked forward to.

At that moment, however, it began to (of all things) rain. Theoden felt the first drop, and then stood there feeling really crummy as the rain pelted down harder and harder.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli just stood silent. Whatever the other Elves were thinking, they certainly did not express it. But then Aragorn looked out and saw the other army advance until it was meters away from the wall of Helm's Deep. From his vintage point, the Ranger/Future King of Gondor could see that, yes, Helm's Deep was in trouble. It looked as if the army below had ladder, arrows and bows, slingshots, great hooks, and just about everything else needed to tear down the great wall.

He walked about his new troops, determined to give them some good advice, sufficient enough for war.

"Do not show them mercy!" he cried. "For you will receive none!" Now all this he had spoken in Elvish; Theoden had decided to let him handle the Elvish situation.

"Let's hope the rain stops," mumbled Gimli. "You can bet your luck as long as it lasts the night."

"Your friends are with you, Aragorn," said Legolas.

"Let's hope _they_ last the night," Gimli grumbled.


	14. Just Singin' In the Rain

Chapter 14

Just Singin' In the Rain

* * *

Adelaide wove her way through the long dark tunnel. At first it had seemed so dark and frightening to her, like a long narrow way without light. At one point, the light had dimmed and gone out completely, and she had to grope her way along, pressing to the sides. With her fingers, toes, and whole body on alert, she tried to make sense of the direction in which she was headed. She had taken off the long, gorgeous dress, and was trying to pick her way through in her shift, which allowed for much more movement. This was no time for prudery, damn it. Now and then she heard vicious sounds, like the rending of flesh or the gurgling scream of an orc, but, trembling, she continued on her way, and cared no more for unfriendly eyes.

The smell was hideous. Sometimes it seemed so close to the wall, and other times it seemed far away. Other times it was close to her, so close that she almost felt that she had brushed past an orc itself. But she kept going. There was no way she could quit now. The odds of her getting out of this hell-sated place were just too high.

* * *

The rain poured down even more heavily at Helm's Deep. Inside, in the caves, the women and children huddled, and the sounds of soothing lullaby chants and songs filled the air. Some mothers were still nursing their young, while others were laying out bedding and things for the night. Extremely old men were there too, the ones who were simply too old to fight. All was turmoil and yet peace inside that cave, but feelings of both hopelessness and hope filled the cave with a sort of tensed, hushed wonder and brooding.

Outside, in the sleeting rain, the Uruk army had stopped just before the gates of Helm's Deep, and they were now stomping and roaring to beat the band. They sounded awful to listen to, and their thunderous, murderous roaring and snarling echoed in the mines of the caves, filling the young children and women with fear. In the rain, the Uruks beat their poles and weapons, and stomped their feet. They shouted out vulgar things and continued to roar and make quite a lot of fuss. One Uruk in command had stood atop a rock and was yelling out orders in his foul tongue.

Haldir and the others upon the gate merely stood and looked at them with disgust and loathing.

Gimli bounced up and down. "What's going on out there?" he asked. "I can't see!"

"Shall I describe it to you," asked Legolas. "Or would you like me to find you a box?"

Gimli looked up at him. "Ha, ha, very funny!"

At last, the men and Elves raised their weapons, and aimed at the Uruks. Things were held perfectly in tightrope suspension; there could be no fault or delay.

That's when one of the older men (who happened to have gout in the arm) released his arrow, for he couldn't hold onto the bow very well. The arrow sizzled out from above and struck one of the Uruks in the neck. The roaring chanting stopped. The Uruk fell face-forward into the mud, dead as a doornail.

"Hold!" cried Theoden, although it was nice to know that old gout-arm could bring down one Uruk on the first try.

The Uruks, however, did not think this was funny at all, and began stomping again.

Aragorn raised his arm. "Aim to kill!" he cried in Elvish, and the Elves pointed their weapons. Legolas breathed inward, and for a moment, his mind raced elsewhere, and his heart pounded. Blood throbbed in his body; the ferocity of the hunt would spur him on tonight. "Their armor is weak at the neck," he murmured to his companions. "And beneath the arm."

All at once, Aragorn gave the command. "Release arrows!"

A hundred or so of the arrows whizzed and whistled through the air, marking their targets with deadly Elf sight, and hitting their marks with ferocious accuracy. The Uruks had charged, surging forward, and now it looked as if there would be no dawn. Like black ants swarming around the great body of rock, they aimed their arrows and spears, and began to throw. Theoden looked out and his mind was filled with images of no tomorrow.

"So it begins," he said tonelessly. Why was this happening to him?

* * *

"Okay," said Adelaide, trying to speak to herself and keep her spirits alive and healthy. "Yahoo, I'm having such fun." She felt like an uncertain snail. And an uncertain snail goes about .00000005 mph. But she held herself in check. She didn't want to fall into holes or get captured by an orc, or anything like that.

Rounding a corner, Adelaide suddenly saw where there was a warm glow and light coming from the passageway. She smiled.

"Al-_right_! Time to head towards the light, Adelaide!"

* * *

The Uruks charged.

The men of Rohan and Elves of Lothlorien sent arrows and weapons in reply. But there was so much death! Uruks died pretty easily, but both Elves and men were shot from their perches, and some were impaled upon the spears of the evil fiends. The rain beat down unmercifully.

Haldir and his Elves were good shots. But at one point, Aragorn spotted a group of Uruks trudging up the walkway, shields covering their heads and the front, like a turtle (we call this the _turtle move_). Aragorn cried out to the Elves to turn their spears and hit the side of the line, which was uncovered. Legolas and his friends shot down a good many Uruks before Aragorn suddenly noticed another problem: ladders. The Uruks had ladders!

Cursing under his sodden breath, Aragorn screamed at the Elves. "Ladders! LADDERS!"

It didn't take the Elves and men long to aim for the Uruks on the long ladders. They were cunning devices, that cranked up at the base and sent a whole ladder of fifty feet up into the air, carrying a dozen or more Uruks, all bearing intimidating weapons. Gimli brandished his axe.

"Yah! Send 'em up to me! Come on, you fiendish creatures! Send your pretty faces into my ax!"

Gimli got his wish.

As soon as one ladder made it to the top, the Uruks all headed out, leaping off and beginning battle, hand to hand, and sword to sword. Gimli's axe raked one Uruk, and he knocked him on the head. Sliding under him, the dwarf popped up and buried his axe in the belly of that Uruk. Turning then, he caught another Uruk off his guard as he was coming up the wall, and hacked his axe right in the privates. Gimli chuckled, and then turned.

"Legolas!" he roared. The fair Elf of Mirkwood turned and smiled at his short friend. "Two!" the dwarf cried. Legolas grinned.

"I'm on nineteen!" he cried. Gimli stared open-mouthed.

"What? Ho! That's not fair; I think you're cheating! You're already beating me! I'll have no pointy-ear outscoring me!"

Legolas fitted another arrow and shot another orc. "Twenty! Twenty-one! Twenty-two…"

The ladders kept coming, and the orcs kept screaming. But they were slowly beginning to be defeated. The line at the walkway was being shot down. And above on the gate, both Elves and men were working hard. Theoden smiled from where he was, and that certain glow of satisfaction crept across his features.

"Is this all?" he asked victoriously. "Is this all you can conjure, Sauruman?

He jinxed their luck.

At that very moment, unnoticed by anybody, the Uruks were carrying great spiked balls and loading them into the sewer of Helm's Deep. This was the Hornburg's only weakness; its only spot of vulnerability. Sauruman had learned the trick of how to get into the wall…Grima Wormtongue had indeed told him just about everything there was to know about Helm's Deep.

One Uruk appeared, carrying a torch like an Olympic runner. Two lines of Uruks had been formed, and they were chanting and encouraging their pal to best destruction. Aragorn noticed this.

"Legolas!" he roared. "Shoot him down! Kill him!"

Legolas aimed and fired, but the Uruk kept running.

"KILL HIM!" screamed Aragorn. Legolas fired again. The Uruk continued to run, and suddenly tripped, skidding all the way into the—

BOOM.

I mean a BIG BOOM.

Elves, men, Uruks, and part of the Hornburg went flying into oblivion, save the Hornburg, which dropped and rolled over a good many Uruks. The wall was utterly breached; Sauruman had figured out how to use gunpowder.

* * *

Treebeard turned, and Pippin woke up immediately, giving Merry a dig in the chest. Together, both hobbits hurried over to their leafy King Kong, who, in turn, gave them beaming smiles that boded good luck.

"We have…just agreed," Treebeard said, and promptly fell asleep.

The hobbits waited patiently.

"Yes?"

Treebeard shook himself. "Oh…yes, I have told your names to the Entmoot, and we have agreed…you…are not…orcs." He beamed.

"Well that's good news," Pippin said, trying to be cheerful. But Merry was incensed.

"What about Sauruman? Have you come to a decision about him?"

"Now don't be hasty!" Treebeard held up a reproving branch, and Merry bristled.

"Hasty? Our friends are out there! They need our help! They cannot fight this war on their own!"

"War!" Treebeard was thoughtful. "Yes, it affects us all. Tree, root, and twig. But you must understand, little hobbits, it takes a long time to say anything in Old Entish, and we never say anything unless it is worth taking a long time to say. The Ents cannot hold back this storm. We must weather such things as we have always done."

"How can that be your decision?" Merry was furious.

"This is not our war," Treebeard said firmly. Merry stamped his foot and stormed into the circle of Ents, raising his voice. His ire was up, and he was going to have a say in this, no matter what.

"But you're a part of this world!" he cried.

This put things into a new light, and the Ents suddenly looked at each other, filled with a new inspiration. This had never dawned on them; they had taken such things for granted.

"Aren't you?" Merry persisted. "You must help! Please! You must do something!"

"Ahh, you are young and brave, Master Meriodoc," Treebeard said slowly, almost sadly. "But your part in this tale is over. Go back to your home."

With that, the Entmoot was dismissed.

Merry and Pippin were left alone to debate matters. Merry dejectedly put on his jacket, feeling abandoned and helpless. His friends were out there, and Frodo and Sam were toiling up the way to Mt. Doom. They themselves had helped them to go free, and had paid dearly. Now they were in the midst of a war they could not stop, but that they could aid in, and the creatures that might have been most helpful in the matter were not helpful in the least. Pippin came around to his friend.

"Maybe Treebeard's right," he said softly. "We don't belong here, Merry. It's too big for us. What can we do, in the end? We've got the Shire," he added, smiling hopefully. Merry turned to him, hope lost on his features.

"The fires of Isenguard will spread," he whispered. "And the woods of Buckland will burn. And everything that was once good and green in this world will be gone. There won't be a Shire, Pippin."

He left his friend there, with thoughts too deep for words.

* * *

"It's getting so that you can't breathe," coughed Adelaide. "It's as hot as a furnace down here! I do _not_ intend to become a hard-roasted chicken!"

Adelaide's warm wind had died away, and in its place as unbearable heat. Sweating and making her way upwards was the only thing she could do. Now the tunnel turned upwards, and she could see that it was leading her right past the birthing pits, to another part of Isenguard. Luckily, if she made it, she'd be able to breathe the free air again.

* * *

After the big boom (which ultimately went down in history among Rohan), the turtle move was able to gain enough time to break away with their shields. Underneath, they bore a heavy beam, a tremendous log, and this they were to use upon the door of the Helm. They began to ram it.

Theoden saw this and gave a cry. "Brace the door!"

The cry was taken up. Inside, men not doing anything outside ran to the door and began to brace it. Several times they were thrown back, for the Uruks were heavy, and the weight of the beam shocked their members.

Nevertheless, it almost looked as if the Uruks were winning the game. Now that the wall had been breached, the Uruks ran forward and sloshed through the sewer gunk and water. Aragorn had been thrown from his place and had landed several feet from the sewer. The Uruks charged in. He was rendered unconscious, but pretty soon came to and looked about. The Uruks were charging in. His head swam, and his mind was suddenly filled with terror, but from out of nowhere there came a cry, "ARAGORN!" and Gimli appeared overhead. The stout little dwarf then leaped upon the Uruks, ignoring their spears, and tumbled many into the water. He sloshed around a bit with his axe, hacking up Uruks left and right. But many proved to be too much for him and they trampled him over, smashing him into the water. Gimli kicked and lashed, but they just kept running him over.

"Gimli!" cried Aragorn, and rushed forward to meet these new attackers. Right behind him were several Elves, and they bore both knives and swords. Legolas was with them, having seen what was done to his little friend. Barging in, most of his arrows spent, he drew his knives and began slashing at the Uruks, killing several, and making a path for himself to get to Gimli. He came and grabbed onto his friend slugging his axe around in the water. He pulled Gimli up, sputtering.

"Let me go! I'll kill 'em!" the dwarf roared. "Let me go! I can take 'em on!"

He was dragged away, still kicking, by two very amused Elves.

But the ladders kept coming, and the Uruks kept killing. The door was not holding well, and the Uruks were breaking in. Elves were dying, men were getting murdered in cold blood, and it seemed as though all would be lost. Theoden looked out, saw the slaughter, and made a quick decision.

"Aragorn!" he called. "Fall back to the Keep! Into the Keep! Pull your men back!"

Aragorn nodded, and, with his sword still unsheathed, went around lopping off heads and limbs, while calling to the Elves and men to pull back into the Hornburg. Most obeyed him…and then he saw Haldir upon the terrace, still fighting like mad.

"Haldir!" he cried. "To the Keep!"

Haldir paused long enough to nod, and then worked his way backwards, still slicing and hacking. He did not see the Uruk coming up behind him, but he saw the one in the front. He blocked the blow—and then a sharp pain sizzled into his side. Blood, gore, and water filled his mind, as he gasped, staggered, and coughed up blood. Bending over, he was suddenly struck another bow from behind, and this tore into his armor and ripped into his back, splintering bone and ripping flesh. Blood poured from his wound, and he barely heard Aragorn scream his name. Thoughts swam before his eyes, but there too, he saw the dead Elves before him, and a hopelessness filled his mind. He would never get to sail across the sea now, he would not make it to Valinor…

Aragorn caught him as he fell, and as the dead Elf lay in his arms, Aragorn felt anger boil up inside of him. He pressed a hand to the Elf's cold heart, and then let him lie. Jumping up, he suddenly vent his rage upon everything and anything in sight. He hacked and slashed at Uruks, and then caught a ladder full of orcs and jumped on it, calling out the name of Elendil. He crashed to the ground, and began the slash and hack in all directions, lopping off heads and limbs, and making a mess of blood and flesh upon the ground.

So far, the situation had gone from bad to worse.

* * *

Another day rose in Fangorn forest, and as the gray dawn peeped out, Merry and Pippin found themselves upon the back of Treebeard, as the Ent moved sluggishly through the forest, going west. He was chit-chatting on and on about something which registered not a thing in Merry's mind. He was too dejected. Words had not helped matters. Debate was like playing with toys to the Ents. They had no real concept of what words were all about. But Pippin, who sat above him this time, had the clocks working. His lights, for once, were all turned on. If debate had failed, that clearly meant that words had no meaning for Treebeard. Like a child, the creature needed a visual guidebook; he needed something to see to get the full-scale swing of what was going on here.

"I will leave you at the western borders of the forest," Treebeard said tiredly. "From there you can make your way home."

Pippin suddenly slammed on the brakes. "WAIT! STOP!"

Treebeard halted in mid-stride. Pippin, heart pounding, patted Treebeard's bark in excitement. "Turn around," he said. "Take us south."

"South! But that would lead you past…Isenguard!"

"Yes," Pippin agreed. "Exactly. If we go south, we can slip past Sauruman unnoticed. The closer we are to danger, the farther we are from harm. It's the last thing he'll expect," he added slyly. Treebeard muttered thoughtfully.

"Hmmm, hoom, that doesn't make sense to me. But then, you are small. Perhaps you are right. South it is, then! I always liked going south; reminds me of going down a hill…"

"Are you mad?" Merry hissed up at Pippin. 'We'll be caught!"

"No we won't," Pippin said, firmness in his voice. That sincerity alone made Merry stop and wonder at his friend. "Not this time."

Treebeard walked on and on, rambling on about this and that, and forests and history, and family time, and something about a family of field mice that used to scramble up his boughs and tickle him all over. He was on the verge of saying more, when they broke into the range of the southern border of the forest. Treebeard stopped midsentence, eyes wide as dinner plates, his mouth agape.

They were facing the ruins of the mountainside, where smoke lay curling from the dying embers of past-lit fires. Trees had been hacked to pieces, their splinters and stumps scattered across the mountainside in a mass tree-genocide movement. The air about them was thick with the decay of dead trees, rotted leaves, and the stench and filth of orcs. Treebeard appeared to have frozen solid.

"Many of these trees were my friends!" he said brokenly. "Ones I had known from seed and acorn…they had voices of their own!" his gaze drifted over the destruction, and finally came to land on a particular tall black tower, in the center of a large circular wall. Smoke was rising from the tower, and fires had been lit all around. From far off, one could hear the clanking of machines and metal; the shouts and brutality of the orcs was clearly audible.

"_Sauruman_!"

Treebeard spat the name like a curse. "A wizard should _know_ better! There is not curse in all the tongues of Men or Elves for such treachery!"

And then, Treebeard threw back his head and roared. That roar, more powerful than a lion's, pierced the hearts of the Isenguarders, and chilled Merry and Pippin to the bone. Birds that heard it flew screeching, and woodland creatures scurried off for safety. The trees rustled. Merry and Pippin looked around.

"The trees! They're moving!"

Indeed they were, heading off in a different direction, shuffling along with their roots and branches like inchworms.

"Where are they going?"

"They have business with the orcs," Treebeard answered mysteriously. "But my business is with Isenguard tonight; with rock and stone."

As he said this, the forest behind them rustled, and the hobbits turned again to behold more Ents coming forward, more than that which had come to the Entmoot. All had anger in their eyes, and their branches were flexing much like the muscles of a man; they were honking and hooting and groaning in a fashion that did not bode well for Isenguard. Merry and Pippin were furtively glad that they would not be in any orc's shoes, nor those of Sauruman, when the Ents came to call.

"It is likely that we go to our doom," Treebeard muttered softly, as he marched forward with his kindred.

"The last march of the Ents."

* * *

"Up! And nearly out!" panted Adelaide. Her hair was plastered to her forehead by sweat, and the shift clung to her body. She was hot, sticky, and an all-around bad mess. She needed a bath. But there was no way she was going back, not even for the Princess Treatment. She stretched now, her full length, to try and get up the muddy staircase that was the stair to the door out. Reaching up, her grimy fingers swiped the slippery handle, and missed. Desperation racked her body, and she tried again. The heat was becoming unbearable.

Her slick fingers tried again, and finally grasped the handle. Gasping and panting, she hauled herself up the muddy stairway, not caring for how dirty she was getting. Her toes and limbs were exhausted to the final degree. Tears swept down her cheeks.

"Bloody hell…come on, damn you, open up, you fucking piece of shit…Get me out of this hell-hole, and back with Aragorn, who's probably going to whale the tar out of me anyway…"

Her toes gripped into the mud, she stood up upon trembling legs, muscles bulging. Thank God for Alaskan mountains and long days of lifeguard training! She pushed upwards, toward freedom, light, and air.

* * *

Theoden rushed down into the Keep and drew his sword at the door. The rest of his men were there, and all had their swords drawn as well. The door would not last much longer. Some men were still trying to hold onto it, but when one man ultimately got himself skewered on the end of a long spear, the others yelled and charged forward.

King Theoden had been a mighty warrior in his younger days, and he still was a powerful man. But he was old, and for whatever reason, could not block and parry like he used to. Underneath his arm, where the armor did not cover, the king of Rohan was spitted. But he did not die! Not yet! Taking the spear in hand, he rammed it back into the face of his attacker, killing him. Then he stumbled back. Cries of "make way for the king!" and "the king is wounded!" were heard. Theoden collapsed against the wall, panting, and holding his gloved hand to his armpit. His men fought brutally, but they needed more time!

"Aragorn!" called Theoden. "We must have more time!"

"How much do you need?" asked Aragorn, still busy with hacking off heads.

"As long as you can give me!" was the reply.

Aragorn and Gimli agreed to go together, and silently they sneaked out of the back door, around the tower, and looked from behind a corner at the situation. There was a long pit between where they stood and where the Uruks were banging on the door. Gimli looked out.

"Aw, come on, lad, we can take 'em!"

Aragorn looked down at the dwarf. "It's a long way."

Gimli looked out at the long way, and then hunched back against the wall. He sighed. "Toss me."

It was barely audible, but Aragorn heard it, and looked down, astonished, at the dwarf. "What?"

"I cannot make the jump; you'll have to toss me!" Gimli looked embarrassed.

Aragorn nodded slowly, a grin escaping, and then took hold of the dwarf. Suddenly, Gimli grabbed his arm.

"Uh…don't tell the Elf!"

Aragorn nodded. "Not a word."

Then he tossed Gimli over the long way, and Gimli landed among the line on the walkway. He started pounding the Uruks with his axe. Aragorn then jumped, and leapt upon the Uruks. He started slashing about, making sure he did not hit Gimli. Together, they cleared a way for Theoden, and so his men were able to grab slabs of wood and brace the door, repairing it and able to hold it.

"Aragorn!" bellowed King Theoden. "Get out of there!"

But there really wasn't any way to "get out of there."

Suddenly, Aragorn heard a fair voice, and looked up to see Legolas tossing him a rope. "Aragorn!" cried the Elf. "Grab on!"

Aragorn grabbed Gimli and wrapped the rope around them both. Legolas was very strong, thus able to haul them both up, both doughty man and sturdy dwarf. As they were pulled up, more ladders were springing up, and the Uruks kept swarming in. The rock was beginning to wear away under the ants.

* * *

"Just…a little…further…" gasped Adelaide, sweating and pushing, her legs taut and her muscles pushing with all their strength. In a last desperate move, she hurled herself vertically upwards, as a gymnast will do, and the wooden door burst open. Adelaide grabbed anything: rocks, weeds, old wood pieces…she pulled herself out of that muddy pit somehow, and then rested for a minute, panting in the open air. She was out of her room and the tunnel, but she was not out of Isenguard.

And now, for the first time, she realized how stupid the situation was. She had no horse. She had no food, no water, and no decent clothing. It would take her a while to get back to Rohan, even on a regular horse. She scrambled to her feet and began limping as fast as she could, trying to get to the borders.

* * *

Inside the Hornburg, Aragorn rushed past a wounded Theoden to help his men. He was grimy, dirty, and sweaty, and wet, but he kept going. Theoden was rather proud of him, in a way, and admired him for all that he was doing. "Leave it," he suddenly called to Aragorn. "There is no hope left. Sauruman has won."

Aragorn whirled around to face the king, anger on his tired features. "My king! You cannot lose hope now! You said as long as the men stood, the Hornburg would not fall! Your men have fought for it; they have died defending it!"

"So much death," said Theoden monotonously. "What can one do against such hatred?"

* * *

On that hopeless note, I suppose you've been wondering where Frodo and Sam went. Faramir led them into Osgiliath, which was being attacked by orcs. On a leash, his hands bound, was Gollum. He walked in front of the men, terrified and groveling.

Now Osgiliath was being bombed with pieces of rock, and orcs were bringing it to destruction. Its ruin would be inevitable if nothing was done quickly. Faramir walked forward, and one of his men stepped forward. "Osgiliath's defenses are being broken," he said. "We must call for aid, and send word to your father" He looked at the hobbits wonderingly, and Faramir pushed them forward. "Send them to my father," he said. "And tell him, 'Faramir sends a mighty gift.'"

The man looked at Faramir questioningly, but he nodded. Sam turned to glare at Faramir, and he struggled against his captors.

"You want to know why your brother died?" he yelled. Faramir turned to look at Sam in surprise. But Sam was on a roll. "You want to know how Boromir died? He tried to take it! He tried to take the Ring from Frodo! He attacked Frodo, and tried to kill him! The Ring drove your brother mad!"

Faramir turned away, and Sam felt tears in his eyes. But he looked back at Frodo. Something was wrong.

"Mr. Frodo?"

_Sweat and heartache he felt, but also the chill of an old wound, and the terror of night. Where now was the white light and sweet voice to comfort him? Thoughts swirled amidst the turmoil and blood…smoking and delirious, they were only haze, but they boiled in his mind until all was blank and nothingness. He heard nothing but a throbbing and pounding in his temples, and the calling of something…a shriek and yet a whisper…_

"He's calling for it, Sam!" whispered Frodo. "I can't hold it back! It's the Ring Sam! He's calling for it! It's so heavy…! His eye is almost on me!"

"Hold on, Mr. Frodo!" cried Sam. "Hold on! You're going to be alright; you can make it! Think of the Shire and all that is good, Mr. Frodo! You can make it! Hang on!"

But Sam's words registered nothing.

_He could not hear his friend speak anymore. What was that upon the air, so foul and…_

Faramir turned.

He stared.

Frodo was looking dazed, but his lips were curled into a sneer, and at once, all was silent.

"_They're here,"_ he hissed. "_They've come."_

Faramir stared at him with wide-open eyes, and then a screech was heard. Osgiliath was covered with a shadow, and then Faramir looked up.

"NAZGUL!" he roared.

Frodo didn't hear a thing.


	15. The Laurels of Victory

Chapter 15

The Laurels of Victory

* * *

Aragorn approached Theoden with a look of power and kingliness in his face. Theoden could not give up hope…not now, when there was still hope for anything and everything!

"This whole story is about having faith and hope," he found himself saying. "Ride out, my lord! My king! Ride out and meet them, head-on!"

"For death and glory?" asked Theoden, almost sarcastically.

"For Rohan," said Aragorn firmly, almost silently. Whole moments passed, a year, a million minutes…and you could have heard a pin drop, despite the ruckus outside. Then the two men looked above at the window. Dawn had come. Dawn…is there anything more glorious and hopeful than a dawn? What the new sun rises, and the white light spreads everywhere?

_Look for my coming…on the fifth day…at dawn._

Gandalf's words. The wizard, far away, but he had never once let anyone down. The white wizard would yet come and be a beacon of hope for…

"Yes…" said Theoden. A slow smile spread across his features. A smile of hope. A smile of grim awareness. A smile of future triumph. He knew Gandalf's words also, and almost he himself had heard them there in the cold morning. He looked at the little window, from which the shaft of white light was coming, and he rubbed his hands.

"The horn of the Helm shall once again sound in the Deep!" he roared.

Gimli nearly hopped up and down. "YEAHHHHHHH!" and he raced away, up the flights of stairs, all the way to the top, where there was, at that moment, a very cool-looking horn. It was circular, spiraling downward and running vertically parallel to the Hornburg wall. Dust blew from its tip as Gimli sounded the horn.

* * *

Adelaide finally managed to find a horse, the same one that Grima had taken to get away from Rohan. She finally managed to mount the horse, when she realized that something was wrong. The ground trembled beneath her feet as orcs ran around screaming. Pieces of rock and boulders flew sky-high, and through the haze, smoke, and confusion, Adelaide thought she saw a bunch of tall, tree-like THINGS walking around. She didn't wait to find out what they were, and urged the horse forward.

She was halfway across the grounds to the border of Isenguard when she heard a sound like thunder. She turned and froze; a wall of rushing water was coming straight at her. The dam of Isenguard had been broken, and the river was about the flood the entire place. Adelaide didn't have time to make an expletive statement before the water hit her violently, yanking her off the horse and dragging her beneath the muddy, bloody mess.

As her head went under, Adelaide suddenly felt something large and strong catch her about the waist…in fact, whatever it was had caught her around her whole body, and now, thank the Lord, it was lifting her out of the water.

She rubbed grit out of her eyes and screamed.

She was staring into the face of…of…well, hang it all, it looked like a tree! But the tree had eyes, a nose, and a beard…and it was staring at her.

Adelaide stared back.

She was suddenly aware that she was at least a good twenty feet off the ground, and that the thing could easily drop her. But looking up at him, she saw two familiar figures perched on his shoulders…

"Merry," she whispered. "Pippin."

"Adelaide!" they both cried, in shocked surprise. Adelaide opened her mouth to say something, but truly…she was tongue-tied.

"Hoom, hum, hom, who are you?" the thing asked. "I have not seen you before at Isenguard. Many times I have seen young Sauruman, with that beastly little white creature of his…servant, or something. But who are you?"

"Yahhayahaayaargghh," Adelaide whispered.

"What did you say?" asked the thing. "I cannot hear you. Speak up."

"Treebeard!" called Merry. "That's Adelaide!"

"Who?"

"Adelaide!" cried Pippin. "She's one of our friends that we lost! She's not an orc, she's a young lady! Please, put her up here with us!"

Treebeard looked at Adelaide, while Merry and Pippin screamed things at her.

"Treebeard's an Ent! A shepherd of trees!"

"Don't scream! Don't worry! You'll be alright! He won't hurt you!"

"We met him after we escaped from orcs!"

"He's attacking Sauruman! Isenguard made him really mad!" or had that been, "He's attacking Isenguard; Sauruman made him really mad"?

Adelaide opened her mouth and closed it, but she could not take her eyes off Treebeard.

"Hi," she croaked.

Treebeard nodded at her. "I thank you, for introductions, hoom, hoom!" he said in a guttural voice. "I have very rarely seen female Elves."

Adelaide was too astonished to correct him. Treebeard looked around, and then smiled. "Hoom, hoomity hoom. There's someone whom you might know. My little orcs know him well."

With several long strides, Treebeard was at the borders of Isenguard, and he set Adelaide down on the grass. She looked around.

"Gandalf!"

"Well, well! I thought I might find something if I passed this way," the wizard chuckled. "I'm glad I came around for a second look!"

Gandalf sat astride Shadowfax. His countenance was as brilliant as the sun, and he shone with a white light. Adelaide, in her muddy, torn, wet shift, and bruised body, felt as though she'd never seen a more welcoming sight. She stumbled to her feet and walked wearily over to the wizard.

"Do you think you can ride?" he asked gently. "Time presses us."

"I don't think I can manage any more heroics today," Adelaide wanted to cry in sheer joy. "Can I ride with you?"

Treebeard had walked back to Isenguard, to manage the damage. Gandalf leaned down and supported Adelaide as she swung up on the horse and clung to the wizard's back. It was back to the Hornburg for them! But then a voice yelled obnoxiously:

"You little rogue, what the hell were you doing in THERE?"

She looked up.

"Eomer!"

"And Co.," he laughed, and she looked about him. So that's where Gandalf had gone—to get Eomer, and all his men! They smiled cheerfully at her, though suited for war, and their eyes were grim with determination. Eomer sighed.

"You'll have a tale to tell later, Puff-Adder. You're always getting yourself into a pickle of trouble! You're incorrigible."

"Maybe," Adelaide said. "But I think I learned my lesson this time. Now shut up and let's get going. Eowyn's depending on you."

Oh! The sun seemed so much brighter, that Adelaide could not tell how many miles were passed. Shadowfax's paces were swift and soundless…she seemed to ride on the air, and felt as noiseless as wind. All she knew was that she was being carried far away from the wreck and chaos and war and ruin, and she was about to go home…home to Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Eowyn, Theoden, and all the others. She could not tell how many hours flashed by, nor how fast they were going. But Gandalf's cloak about her shoulders kept her warm, and she clutched his waist like a frightened child recently rescued from a vicious monster.

As she looked back, Adelaide fancied that she could see Sauruman coming out from his precious home, and looking out with vast and indescribable horror at the damage of Isenguard. His orcs were dead; the water flowed swiftly, and his power was long gone.

* * *

The Hornburg was alive with activity, as the beasts of Sauruman continued to hammer at the doors of the refuge. But inside, Legolas, Aragorn, and Theoden had mounted their horses. Behind them, also seated upon horses, were the rest of the men. They were cold, hungry, weary, and nearly dead, but they would fight for Rohan, glory, and death! Theoden had never looked more kingly at that moment; a strange light shone from his face. Upon his horse, he turned to look upon Aragorn, who bore nothing upon himself for protection, save for that white jewel he always wore. There was yet hope.

"Let this be the hour, when we draw swords together!" he cried to Aragorn. "For wrath…for ruin…and for a new day! Forth Eorlingas!" he roared to his men, and his sword rang in the halls like silver as it was drawn from its sheath. His horse reared, gave a cry of battle, and charged forward. Aragorn had drawn his own sword, and even Legolas had a sword in his hand.

But then the doors fell, and the Uruks charged forth. What did that matter? They pointed their spears, but who cared? They yelled like savages, but what the heck? Theoden, his men, Aragorn, and Legolas all charged forward, ignoring the spears and grim looks of the Uruks. Theoden yelled, Aragorn yelled, and all moved forward like a massive wave surging over ants.

They broke over the bridge and broke the ranks of the fell creatures over it. Slashing, hacking, and moving swiftly, they bowled everything over like Dominoes, and kicked all out of their path. The great Uruks moved back, for upon their shields there was written death, and the light shone from above, a morning ray of light upon the great army of Isenguard. But there was something else there.

Aragorn and Legolas stopped and looked up. Standing upon the hill overlooking the Hornburg, mounted upon a white horse, was Gandalf. The morning sun caught in his hair, making him shine like a star. Behind him, clutching his waist, was Adelaide, eyes big as dinner plates.

"Damn it, I missed all the fun," she muttered.

"Fun? I should hope you missed it!" Gandalf scolded her. "King Theoden stands alone."

Behind him, Eomer rode up, clutching a spear. His helmet gleamed in the sun. He looked like some kind of Achilles, with golden armor and noble face. His piercing eyes roamed the land below. "Not alone," he murmured.

"High time we gave him a hand," Adelaide agreed.

"Forth Eodred!" Eomer cried, and behind him there came masses, hundreds of men upon horses, bearing weapons and banners. A light of triumph was in their eyes as they poured forth off the hill, like a tidal wave. Gandalf led them at their head, his great battle-cry sounding like never before, a horn in the Deep, though one of battle and new hope! His staff wove about his head and from there was emitted a great light.

"Mithrandir!" cried Legolas. "Mithrandir! This is a spell indeed!"

"Gandalf!" cried the men. "Eomer! Long live King Theoden, and may the Horn endure!"

Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli rode forth to meet Gandalf, and their swords hacked madly and blindly at the Uruks in their way. Gandalf and Eomer and all the Eored streamed down the hill towards the army below, which suddenly lost interest in the Hornburg, and turned frantically to meet this new, deadly opponent. Gandalf's staff flashed in their eyes. The Uruks cried out in fear, and dropped their spears. Not a man was skewered as they rode into the filthy mass, and the men began hacking and slicing at the Uruks. Gandalf there used his sword Glamdring.

Legolas charged through the fray and passed Gandalf on his left. Reaching out with one arm, the Elf, grabbed Adelaide around the middle, and she, in surprise, let go of the wizard's waist and took hold of the Elven Prince's shoulders, letting him pull her onto his saddle.

Literally, like Erol Flynn.

The movement took Adelaide's breath away. It was truly a _Gone With the Wind_ moment; the Elf's arms pressed her securely as she clung to him, looking up into his face with eyes that mirrored the impending victory. She had known, all the time, that everything was going to be alright.

"Legolas—"

"Hush, _I have you_."

* * *

In Osgiliath, the Nazgul shrieked and came around for another attack. Faramir and his men began wildly screaming, shooting arrows madly up into the sky and trying to fell the creatures from the sky. Around them, all was hassle and turmoil as orc after orc sent arrows and spears flying around the men.

Sam saw Frodo.

His master was walking away from him, walking unsteadily and yet with great bearing. His eyes were faraway, and yet in depth and in the world. He seemed to be a creature from another world.

"Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo did not hear him.

The call of the Ring beckoned him.

He stood facing Osgiliath upon a tower bridge, and there he stood, silent against the wind, his whole mind being tugged. As if in a dream, or perhaps a nightmare, there arose in front of him a great beast, like a flying lizard, and upon its dark back in a saddle sat a Black Rider, hooded and masked with malice and hatred. Frodo faced this unspeakable demon with despair and helpless failure.

Faramir stopped long enough to look up and see the danger Frodo was in.

Now the great beast was stretching out its claws.

Frodo stood unmoving, but his hand came up, and between his fingers, there he held the Ring, golden and impossibly innocent. The Black Rider stared at it.

The beast was reaching towards the little hobbit.

Frodo closed his eyes. Few knew what his thoughts were, although his mind was black, and oblivion stood between him, the devil before him, and the devil behind him. And at his heart there was a wheel of fire.

Frodo gave a slight moan.

He did not see the robust figure of Sam, pans, bedding and all, running pell-mell up the stairs for his master. All seemed to be in slow motion. But Sam cried out, and at that same moment, Faramir strung his bow.

Sam reached his master just as the claws snapped down. He hurtled against Frodo, and knocked him down, sending him tumbling down the stairs, but out of reach of the beast.

Faramir sent an arrow flying.

Excellent shot! He hit the beast in the chest; the creature rose up into the air with many a foul shriek and horrifying scream. And even as he cowered and flew away, his wings fanning the air with poison, Sam had tackled Frodo, and had rolled down the steps with him. Frodo was safe.

But Frodo was angry. Someone had just tried to steal the Ring, the precious Ring! And now he saw Sam not as a savior, but as a drooling, spitting orc. Rage boiled up inside him.

His face contorted in real anger and rage, Frodo flipped Sam onto his back and drew Sting. In a moment, he had Sam pinned, and Sting at his servant's throat. Sam gave his master a look of surprise, but Frodo gave a wild screech that sent shivers down his spine.

"Mr. Frodo, don't hurt me!" he cried. "It's your Sam!"

Frodo stared at him, his face still contorted, but now…to believe him?

"Don't you know your Sam?"

_Blood and rage, fire and toil…what veil is this suddenly over my mind? Why cannot I see my servant and friend in the light of day? Why is night surrounding me?_

Frodo looked at Sam.

His rage subsided, and in his face there suddenly came a look of disbelief, of horror, and of hatred…hatred of himself.

He backed off of Sam, releasing him.

Sam sat up.

Frodo fell against a wall, and his sword clashed to the ground in a silver metallic ring.

"I can't do this, Sam," moaned Frodo.

"I know, Mr. Frodo," sniffed Sam, and got to his feet. Frodo had slouched against a wall, and his whole body was limp. He looked utterly defeated.

"By all rights, we shouldn't even be here," sobbed Sam, but with a steel-hearted determination in his mind and voice. "But we are!"

Frodo welcomed the little wind upon his back.

"It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. "They were filled with disaster and hopelessness and darkness, and you didn't want to know the ending. And the folks in those stories all had chances to turn back. But they didn't!" His voice grew stronger. "They kept holding onto something, Mr. Frodo."

"What are we holding onto?" Frodo's voice was dull; he sagged limply against a pillar and slid further down to the ground, staring through vacant eyes at nothing in particular.

Sam turned. Gollum sat there looking at Sam with such sadness that even Sam, for a moment, pitied the shell of a hobbit. Tales by the riverbank…good times… Gollum hardly remembered any of that anymore. It was time to bring to life something new…a new meaning of hope for Gollum, and the world. And right as he spoke, Gandalf was leading Helm's Deep to victory, which had laid her hand upon the men of Rohan. Eomer was being reunited with his sister. Aragorn was being madly hugged by Eowyn. And Adelaide was snuggled, safe in the arms of an immortal Elven Prince. Frodo did not know this, but his heart cried out for her. He wanted to hold on to her; she was his little rock of strength. And she was answering…by the wind.

Sam turned to Frodo. He had an answer ready on hand.

"That there's some good in the world, Mr. Frodo! And it's worth fighting for!"

Now Faramir stood a little distance away, watching the scene for himself. And now his heart was moved, and his mind and inner eye saw more clearly now than ever before. He almost smiled, because he remembered a time when he wanted to prove himself…when there was a job to be done, it needed to be done, and no questions asked. Now, perhaps, he understood, truly, the real meaning of the Ring, and why it had to be destroyed. His face softened.

Boromir.

_Remember today little brother. Today…life is good._

Jolly good indeed.

"I think at last, Frodo Baggins, we begin to understand one another," said Faramir softly, approaching Frodo. He bent down on one knee and faced the little hobbit. "For good or for evil…I suppose I must let you go—"

"Captain Faramir!" gasped Anborn. "You know the law of your father. If you let them go, your life is forfeit."

Frodo and Sam looked up at Faramir. They too, hadn't realized just how harshly this man had been pressed. It would be a test for him.

_Another chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to prove his quality. _

For what seemed like ages, Faramir stared at them, his mind pulled. It was as if a devil and angel sat upon his shoulders, each whispering into his ear. But his conscience spoke true, and he would listen, no matter what his father might have said at that moment. He, for some reason, also couldn't see this pitied, tiny hobbit up against his father.

"Then it is forfeit," he told Anborn. "Release them!" He knelt down in front of Frodo. "I've never been more keenly interested in another creature before," he said hesitantly. "Were we to meet in better times, I can assure you we might eat and drink at leisure, and tell each other all sorts of tales. I pray we'll meet again, Frodo Baggins, under better circumstances."

"I pray so, too." Frodo said softly. The whole shock of Faramir's decision had left him feeling bare and whole, but not without hope. For a moment, he was quiet. And then, he murmured, very softly, "Captain Faramir, should you run into the prophetess, will you tell her that I love her?"

Faramir smiled. "She would be proud to know so. I guessed that much, Frodo, when I mentioned her name. You lit up as a beacon set with oil and fire. Would that I had such a lady to fight for. If I meet this lady of yours, I'll give her all the news of you."

* * *

Adelaide had never quite been as popular as she was when Legolas swept off his horse and carried her into the Helm. She attributed most of the stares to the fact that she was wearing a very muddy shift, but when Gamling came up and nearly broke all her bones in an affectionate bear-hug, she realized that, hey, maybe people were really glad to see her again.

Eomer and Co. were driving off the rest of the orcs, and battle-weary men of Rohan now slumped wearily down to rest. The entire Hornburg was a devastated mess of fallen rock and bloody bodies, but nobody seemed to care as they curled up and fell fast asleep. Eowyn and the rest of the maids were busy finding food and bedding for the sick. Theoden had gone off to follow Eomer. And Aragorn sat down on a rock by a wall, took out his soaking pipe, and attempted to have a smoke. He stopped short as Legolas brought Adelaide over to him and set her down.

Adelaide meekly walked over to Aragorn and stood before him, feeling very ashamed and heartbroken for disobeying him and causing him such worry. She swallowed hard. As Aragorn stood up sternly, she winced.

"Before you beat my lights out," she said meekly. "I…I'm sorry."

Aragorn didn't say anything. Adelaide felt tears welling up in her eyes; she was humiliated to be standing here in front of everyone and belting out a confession, but it had to be done. She took a deep breath and tried to control her shaking voice.

"It was my fault I got captured, and I'm sorry I didn't listen to you earlier. You're right…I need to grow up and learn some discipline. I was somewhere I shouldn't have been, and I was taking our grave situation too lightly, and you were right and I was wrong, so I'm sorry for getting myself into trouble and causing you and everyone else a lot of worry. I didn't mean to."

Aragorn exchanged looks with Legolas, who just smiled. Then the Ranger beckoned to Adelaide and pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head and cradling her in a warm, gentle embrace. At that point, Adelaide completely lost it, and started bawling.

For a few minutes, nobody said anything. Gimli patted Adelaide's back, and Aragorn just rocked her quietly, trying to hush her. Legolas stood awkwardly by, both amused and relieved that his lovely lady was safe and sound, though she'd no doubt had a terrible scare, and was thoroughly relieved to be free and with her companions again. And when she gave each member of the Fellowship a hug in turn, he was delighted to see that she hugged him, too, without any checks. Yes, she had missed them all, even the dumb Elf.

"So, what happened?" Gimli wanted to know.

"I think there will be time enough for that, later," Gandalf said, approaching them. "For now, I think it may be best if we find something to clothe her with decently. Are you hungry at all, Adelaide?"

"No," she replied. "Sauruman didn't starve me, at any rate."

"I should think him a boor if he did. You're perfectly fine; you've just had a nasty scare, and I daresay it was no bed of roses trying to escape. Legolas, find her some boots; strip the dead if you must. Adelaide, we have but a rather large tunic to clothe you."

"That works fine. Where's Eowyn?"

"She's helping the other maidens," Aragorn said. "Would you like to see her?"

"Not right now," Adelaide said. "I'd rather stick with you guys, first. I want to help. Can't I do anything at all?"

"Well—" Gandalf raised an eyebrow, and then smiled. "Gimli and Legolas might need your help. Want to go and see what you can do?"

* * *

The first unfortunate victim that Adelaide recognized was Haldir. She dropped alongside his body and picked up his head to wipe away the blood and stare into the cold, vacant eyes. His flesh, once pressed to hers in the heat of passion, was now cold and dead, already decomposing.

"Could we move him?" she asked. She didn't have to do so twice. Legolas and Gimli both removed the Elven corpse to a quiet place and covered him gently with his cloak. Adelaide tried to cry and found that she could not. She suddenly felt very dried up and heavy-hearted. It was her first look at the remains of a battle; in fact, it was her first battle between the orcs and men, and she decided she didn't like it, though she wished she could have helped in some way.

Legolas put his arm around her. "You grieve for him," he said hesitantly, indicating the thing that was once Haldir.

Adelaide nodded.

"Did you love him?"

She let out a gusty sigh. "In my own little way…I think I did. We didn't get on right away…but we made up quickly the second time around, and now I wish…now I wish I'd been nicer. I should have held my tongue and been polite. Maybe I wouldn't have been so prejudiced against your kind, Legolas." Oh, NOW the tears came. "It's all my fault," Adelaide wailed. "All the fucked up messes are ALWAYS my fault. If I hadn't been such a bitch to him, maybe we would have parted better friends, and maybe I wouldn't have wasted 17 years in the Shire always hiding when Frodo invited me out to see the Elves. And maybe if I hadn't been such a bitch, I wouldn't have gotten captured and caused a lot of pain to people who really do care about me, even though I'm from a different world. Why doesn't anyone hate me by now?"

Legolas let her vent, but Gimli walked up to her and pounded her back. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say," he snapped. "If you're trying to blame yourself for what's happened here, you can forget it…a deceased Englishman you've never even met wrote all this, and plotted this course!"

"I know THAT," Adelaide sniffed. "But I blame myself for…for a lot of things that Tolkien didn't intend."

"Nonsense," Gimli snorted. "You acted according to your lights, when you first came into our world. Who can blame you? You did part friends with Haldir; it was what he wanted. As for getting yourself captured, maybe a good deal of it was your fault, but it's not because you're a…a…a whatever it was you called yourself! You're full of life and energy, Addy, and you made a mistake you'll not easily make again. Next time, you'll think. But don't be so hard on yourself. We couldn't hate you, not none of us. And to think that we ever could is selfishness on your part. Legolas, give her your hand, and let's go down. I want to show her my chief pride and victory for the day!"

Adelaide accepted the Elf's hand, and let him help her down the stairs. Gimli was already at the bottom and sitting upon an orc. Legolas looked at him mischievously. He set Adelaide down and fingered his bow.

"Ah, I know what this is about. Well, Gimli, before you boast to our fair maiden, I should tell of my victory first. Final count…42," he said proudly. "And what say you, my pretty maid?" he said to Adelaide. "42. Not bad for your Elf-boy, is it?"

"Well that's not too bad for a pointy-eared Elven Princeling," yawned Gimli. "But I'll have you know that I am sitting pretty on number 43."

Adelaide burst out laughing. Legolas was shocked. Whipping out another arrow, he strung it and sent it flying straight between Gimli's legs. He smiled satisfactorily, and cocked his head to Adelaide, who put an arm about him. Damn Elf was showing off.

"43," he said softly, and Gimli snorted.

"You didn't have to do that, he was already dead!"

"He was twitching."

Gimli glared. "That's because I have my axe stuck in his nervous system!" he cried, yanking on his axe stuck in the orc's head. The orc gave several large twitches. Adelaide laughed, and Gimli snorted.

"You're just trying to show off for the little lady," he grumbled. "Go and show off elsewhere, laddie."

"Need I do that?" asked Legolas softly, turning to Adelaide. "It seems I've done enough, here."

Adelaide chuckled. "You know, for once, I don't think I can complain. It's a good day to be alive and a good day to turn over a new leaf. Forgive?" She held out her hand.

Legolas thought he would die of sheer happiness as he took the bruised and dirty hand, carried it to his soft lips, and bestowed upon it a warm fervent kiss of adoration.

* * *

Faramir led Frodo to what looked like the sewer of Osgiliath. It stank, was dark, and was filthy wet. Gollum did not seem to mind it very much; the guards had untied him and now he scampered along after Frodo, trying to huddle close to him to escape the men who crowded perhaps just a bit too close to him. Sam just rolled his eyes. He hated Gollum, more so than ever before, and he just wished that maybe the men would have shot him in the Forbidden Pool. He, Sam, would have been saved a lot of trouble.

"I'll have my hands on him yet, though!" he told himself stubbornly. "If he makes one wrong move, I'll throttle him good, and I'd see he'd never bother us again! And good riddance!"

Faramir stopped Frodo at the gate of the sewer.

"Where were you going?" he asked. "How did you plan to get into Mordor?"

The tone was curious and helpful. Frodo trusted Faramir.

"Smeagol is leading us up a pass by Minas Morgul," said Frodo.

Faramir stopped dead. He turned frightfully pale. "Cirith Ungol?" he said sharply. "Is that its name?"

Frodo cocked his head. "I do not know," he said. "Smeagol gave us no name."

Smeagol looked as if he were trying to sneak past them all, but Faramir's hand shot out, catching him by the throat. He heaved Smeagol violently against the wall and pinned him there, his face a mask of loathing and disgust. And maybe just a bit of anger, too.

"Is that the name of the pass?" demanded Faramir, none to gently. Smeagol squealed and tried to loosen the hold about his neck, but the captain's hand was solid.

"No, no…yes!" he gasped. "We heard the name once, yes. But what does that matter? Master says he must go. There is no other way!"

Faramir dropped him, and Smeagol cowered on the ground, coughing. Faramir glared at him for a moment, and then turned to Frodo.

"Frodo, you must not go to Cirith Ungol," he said, almost desperately. "It is a place of terror. Full of lidless, sleepless eyes and a great malice. Do not go, I beg you! This creature is evil. I do not trust it so far as I could kick it."

"But I must go somehow," said Frodo. "And if there is no other way…" he trailed off.

"Frodo, listen to me," said Faramir. "I would protect you in any way possible that lay within my powers…do not take the pass! I can only warn you, as I see you are not to be deterred from this mission. You are a brave halfling, whatever else anyone else may say. But you must not go to Cirith Ungol."

"There's no other way!" snapped Smeagol, rubbing his throat and looking daggers at Faramir. Frodo sighed.

"Apparently I have no choice," he said. "I cannot go by way of the Black Gate. I must enter somehow. I trust him."

"Well, I do not," said Faramir. "Beware, Frodo! But you go with my blessing. I wish you luck on your journey, and a safe return to the green of this world."

Frodo bowed low. "I thank you, Captain Faramir, son of Denethor!" he said. "And I doubly thank you for this safe conduct out of Osgiliath. May the light shine on your swords forever!"

_And may bricks and boulders fall upon your father's noodle. _

Faramir bowed, and Sam stepped up shyly.

"You took the chance, sir."

"Did I so?"

"Yes, sir, and you proved your quality…the very highest." Sam was blushing red. Faramir could not help giving an inward smile. This little hobbit was perhaps no great warrior or man of lore, but his trust, loyalty, and bravery were enough to make Faramir want to hug the little guy.

"The Shire must truly be a great realm, Master Gamgee, where gardeners are held in high honor," Faramir returned. He smiled at Sam, who couldn't have blushed redder even if he tried. And somehow, it was true…a lone little hobbit gardener undertaking a challenge that seemed more worthy than anything the captain of Gondor was doing at the moment. Faramir somehow wished with all his heart that he could go off with Frodo and help him in any way possible. He felt a fatherly need to protect these little hobbits. And he just didn't trust Smeagol.

As the two hobbits took their leave of Faramir, Smeagol tried his best to crawl by, but Faramir picked him up again and slammed him bodily into a pillar.

"I swear by the Valar," he growled. "If you lead them into a trap, may a curse fall upon you, and may you get worse than what they do!"

"Don't fuck this one up," is the American equivalent.

Faramir dropped Smeagol, and the creature scrambled away into the drain after Frodo and Sam. Gondor's finest captain watched them go, a sense of pity welling up in his heart…and also a sense of oh-my-gosh-what-am-I-going-to-tell-dad.

Sam stopped long enough to catch his breath in the drain, and Smeagol, coughing and retching, came up behind him. Sam turned.

"He had to do it, you know," he informed Smeagol roughly. "He didn't mean any harm, master didn't. He was trying to save you. The men would have killed you if master hadn't stepped in."

He felt like an explanation was at hand. Poor Smeagol probably felt insulted, and Sam had a faint glimmer of what it would be like to be in his position. He'd feel betrayed too, if Frodo had led him like that out of danger, only to be kicked and beaten later on. Besides, Faramir had just given him a compliment, and he felt a double need to return the favor. Smeagol just needed to know that master had actually been very kind. Plus, if it did seem like betrayal, if he apologized, Smeagol wouldn't strangle them in their sleep.

Smeagol looked at Sam, his eyes wide and confused. "Save me?"

"Yes," said Sam. "So no hard feelings."

"Oh, no, no! No hard feelings. Smeagol always forgives master, yess, always forgives."

"That's very decent of you!" Sam said as they walked along. "Very decent indeed!"

Oh, if Sam was only a mind-reader…the word "decent" wasn't even in Gollum's vocabulary at that moment.


	16. Just When You Thought it Was Over

Chapter 16

Just when you thought it was over...

**YES! The last chapter for this book has arrived. Also, if you're interested, do check out the other story I'm writing about Adelaide's early days in the Shire, called "Stepping Into Society." You can look it up on my profile or try shifting through the mountains of LotR fanfictions. A special holiday fanfiction is in the works, too, and I believe it's safe to say now that I'd be glad to take requests, although I've never done that before. The only thing I'd ask is no requests for slash. I'd rather put my OC in bed with Gollum than have her in bed with Eowyn. Also, chapter 1 of The Tale of Adelaide III will be up very soon, I promise!**

* * *

Gandalf led Theoden, Aragorn, Eomer, Gimli, Legolas, Adelaide, and half the Rohirrim out upon a hilltop to watch what was left of the Uruk army run pell-mell into the forest. It was very funny seeing them run away like little ants being trod upon by big boys. As they disappeared into the forest, Eomer glanced at Gandalf.

"Shall I give orders for a pursuit?" he asked. Gandalf shook his head.

"Please don't follow them. It would not be the wisest move," he said. At the same moment, a noise like grinding wheels and groaning limbs split the air, and hideous orc cries were heard. Adelaide plugged her ears. The trees thrashed as with life of their own, attacking the orcs that ran heedlessly through their path. Legolas tried to pacify Arod, who was moving nervously beneath him. Gimli's mouth fell open.

"Well!" he said. "That was interesting."

"I don't quite remember a forest being there before," remarked Theoden. Gandalf smiled.

"Hm! Yes, well, there wasn't." Gandalf's eyebrows rose. "Sauron's retribution will be swift, I fear. The War for Rohan is over. The War for Middle Earth is about to begin."

* * *

Switching back to Isenguard:

Merry and Pippin were walking around, the water floating up to their chests. They were now staring up at Sauruman, who was looking down from a balcony in Orthanc. Let's just say that his mood was not one of supreme delight at finding two hobbits outside his doorstep….not to mention a bunch of Ents parading around the ruins of his home, which was quite utterly destroyed.

The water had calmed down quite a bit since the flooding of Isenguard, and now Treebeard was ambling about and taking inventory. As he stepped up to the hobbits, they greeted him with delight, and he gave a great "hoom."

"Soon Isen can run clean again," he hoomed. "Hoom, hum! What an extraordinary day. I have been very busy indeed. Well then, my lads, let's not be so hasty. Wander about if you like, but don't try to get into Orthanc. I doubt Sauruman will enjoy your company."

"Probably not," remarked Merry. "He doesn't look too happy, does he?"

"Not happy at all, Merry." Pippin agreed, watching Sauruman throw an undignified, wizardly fit.

"Still…I suppose the view would be quite nice from up there."

"Oh yes, it's a quality establishment. I hear the staff are _very_ good."

Merry put out his hand and tried comparing his height to that of Pippin. When Pippin turned, he pretended that there was something caught in his hair. Pippin frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing…nothing at all! World's back to normal, that's all!" Merry smiled cheerfully. Pippin sighed.

"No it isn't…I'm starving."

"Well, good luck in finding something good around here…probably nothing but dead rats and moldy bread."

Pippin nodded, and then looked down into the water. There, floating along in the water, were apples. He picked one up in amazement, and gasped. Turning, Merry grabbed onto an apple, and they began following the trail of bobbing apples until they found a huge roast turkey…and a whole basket of apples…that led into a huge storeroom filled with fruits, vegetables, clean bread and meat, and wonder of wonders—

"I don't believe it," breathed Pippin.

"It can't be…" Merry agreed.

Standing on a shelf were two large barrels of Southfarthing pipeweed, the best of the Shire. The two hobbits nearly pushed each other over, trying to get to the barrels, but when they opened them up greedily, Pippin gasped in delight.

"It is!" he cried.

"Longbottom leaf…the best of the Southfarthing weed!" cried Merry, and inhaled the sweet scent.

"It's perfect!" Pippin cried. "One barrel each! Oh, wait! Wait…don't you think we should share it with Treebeard?"

"_Share_ it?" Merry looked outraged. "Um…no." He picked up a bit of the leaf. "Dead plants…you know, he wouldn't understand. They might be a distant relative."

"Oh, I get it," Pippin winked. "Don't be hasty."

"Exactly," said Merry, putting his pipe into his mouth and letting out a huge "Barum!"

The two hobbits laughed so hard, and their sweet smoke so filled the air, that Treebeard approached, and, looking into the little storeroom, saw the two friends as they smoked and laughed together, happy and alive.

* * *

Frodo and Sam were walking along the cool clear wilderness of the forest, leaving the smoke and hatred of Osgliliath far behind. Frodo had instantly perked up in his mood, for luck had befallen them like nothing else, and he was only grateful to be alive and on the quest again. Sam, behind him, was still swelling at Faramir's praise, and thinking great things about his master and the man that had helped them. It seemed as though Boromir's brother was a lot more…sensitive, shall we say, to the needs of others. And he had helped two hobbits get to safety. He knew that the mission was important. What was more, he was honoring that. It had taken him a while to figure it out, but not as long as Boromir, at least. They figured his heart was in the right place.

"I wonder if we'll ever be put into songs or tales," Sam said dreamily. And people will say, 'Let's hear about Frodo and the Ring! Frodo was really brace, wasn't he, dad?' 'Yes, m'boy, the most famousest of hobbits, and that's saying a lot.'"

"You've left out one of the chief characters!" Frodo laughed. "Samwise the Brave," he said nobly. " 'I want to hear more about him, dad.'" He stopped and faced Sam. "Frodo wouldn't have got far without Sam."

Sam blushed slightly. "Now Mr. Frodo, you shouldn't make fun. I was being serious!"

"So was I," Frodo said softly, and smiled faintly at his "gardener," who, at the moment, was the best friend anyone could have in the entire known universe. He turned and kept on walking. Sam considered the title, running it through his head. It had…a certain ring to it. Ring. Haha.

"Samwise the Brave," he fingered this ringing title, and found it rather befitted him, if he were ever to grow three feet higher, sprout limber muscles, and get a chin, with a sword and a cape to match whatever boots he got.

"Smeagol!" Frodo called. "Smeagol!"

Behind them, unknown to them, Smeagol was doing some fast thinking, crawling along like a beaten dog, hatred and angry thoughts flying through his head faster than you could say "Fat Hobbit." His lean, starved body was covered with the bruises inflicted by the men, and not a word of Sam's apology had registered in his brain. All the lights upstairs had been turned out, and now Gollum was back, sneaking and prying into the private life of his self.

"Masster looks after us!" he was sobbing. "Masster wouldn't hurt us…bah! Master broke his promise! No! Don't ask us…don't ask Smeagol, not poor Smeagol…curse them! Curse the filthy hobbitses! We should wring their filthy necks!"

He gripped a branch and twisted it violently, cracking the entire length of the small, dead tree. "Kill them. Kill them. Kill them both! Take the precious. Then we'll be the master!"

"No, no! Too risky! The fat hobbit, he knows!"

"Then stab them! Put out his eyes! Make him crawl! Yes, yes!"

"No, no! Too risky, too risky!"

He scrambled up near a tree and hid there, muttering, barely hearing the calls of Frodo and Sam. A lightbulb had suddenly popped on, and the green glint came back to his eyes.

"We could let…HER do it."

"Yes, precious, we could."

"Her."

"We could let her…yes, precious. Once the hobbitses are dead…yes, precious. Once they're dead…once they're dead!"

He put a knowing finger to his lips, silencing himself, and then hopped out in front of Sam and Frodo, beaming like the sun.

"Come on, hobbits! Long way to go, oh yes. Very long way. _Follow Smeagol_."

* * *

"Adelaide, I want to hear how you got out of Isenguard," said Aragorn firmly. "Nothing doing, if you think you'll get out of this one."

"Well, sure!" Adelaide sat on a rock beside Eowyn, who had found her best friend again, nearly squeezed the breath out of her in a world-record hug, and now would not be parted from her side. "But not right now, hey? I've been a POW for a few days, and I think I might have post-war trauma."

"Get on with you!" Eowyn shoved her playfully. "You've no such thing, Addy. But there will be little time to rest. We must bring the people back to Edoras, and my uncle has left it up to the two of us to plan a victory celebration."

"A victory celebration? You mean we're the party-planners?" Adelaide's eyes lit up, and Aragorn was relieved to see that some of the old Adelaide was still in existence. She had changed so much since coming back; she had apologized to him in all humility, and seemed so much graver and serious. But it was good to see that she still enjoyed planning parties.

Knowing Adelaide and Eowyn, those two would plan a feast to remember!


End file.
